


Three Days to Live

by Werepirechick



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Human, Blood and Injury, Body Modification, Disabled Character, Enemies to Friends to Family, F/F, Family Shenanigans, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, Loss of Parent(s), Murphy's Law, Prosthesis, at least everyone can be gay now, futuristic dystopia, futuristic technology is abound, if it could go wrong it Goes Wrong and that's just how it is on this bitch of an earth, the future has poverty and racism BUT, the major character death tag isn't for any of the team i promise, the ultimate relationship arc, this is a 92000+ word count fic so everyone get ready for a Lot of chapters this week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 93,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: April is just three days from her 21st birthday. She's set to inherit the mega corporation K-tech and become one of the most powerful individuals on earth... but only if she can survive the hired killers her family sends after her. A quartet of brothers are four of those hired killers, paid by April's aunt to end her life. In a last ditch plan, April strikes a deal with them: if they keep her alive the next three days, she'll make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.Dodging death at every turn and meeting the brothers' bizarre friends and family along the way, April finds herself getting far more than what she originally bargained for with the brothers.Not every family is the one you're born into, after all.





	1. In Which Things Go Awry

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fanfic that ended up months in the making, and i have no one by myself to blame for it's length. please no one look too closely at anything, i am but a sci-fi nerd and can't help myself with this genre.
> 
> anyway, when i saw the post about the tmnt big bang comp, i signed up pretty much immediately. i love things like this since they push my writing to the limits and force me to improve myself. from how much effort i put in, how little sleep i got, and how much stress i had while creating this monster of a fic, i'd like to think i succeeded in upping my skill level.
> 
> and this fanfic is also illustrated!!! thanks to moodoodles and infographicphenomenon for the artworks, you're both wonderful.
> 
> so, following all that, this fic's posting will be spread out across as many days as there are chapters, with a new one each day until we run out. it's literally 92,000+ words long and throwing it all at once at you readers would just be cruel. i hope everyone enjoys this first chapter here, and checks out the tumblrs in the links in the post-chapter notes.

Mikey hums softly to himself, pushing the cleaning cart along the plush carpet of the hallway. Even with how many fancy upper-class hotels he’s worked in, each new one never fails to impress him. And this one even has the sort of aesthetic appeal that appeals to _his_ aesthetic. It’s swanky, but at the same time, not as soullessly gold plated as some places are.

Still. He’d mix it up with a dash of street art and thrifty furniture. Kind of like the place he and his brothers live in. Having a good balance of what they grew up with alongside everything they have now is just… _aesthetic._

“ _Room 324, Mike. Coming up on your right.”_

Mikey nods imperceptibly, not responding directly to the voice in his ear. As he reaches the suite, he gives his hijab and apron one last adjustment, and then knocks.

“Housekeeping,” he says, modulating his voice to be the right blend of young and old. Harder to identify in recording, even if someone managed to get an audio of this.

“ _Just a minute!”_

Mikey waits patiently, and has a kindly, apologetic smile on his face when the door opens. The young lady on the other side of the doorway has her hair in two pigtails, each a perfect dark cloud. Red rimmed cat’s eye glasses are perched on her nose, almost distracting from the very faint freckles across it. Her outfit, while casual formal, is very obviously expensive.

April O’Neil smiles at him. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t know I was due for cleaning just yet.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Mikey replies, adding an accent in the right places. “We’ve just been quickly today, you see? Everyone on this floor has very clean rooms.”

“I’m sorry to say I won’t be one of those people,” O’Neil says wryly. She steps back from the door, moving inside. “C’mon in, ma’am. I’ll give you my trashcans and take care of everything else myself. I’m not gonna make you pick up my dirty clothes or anything.”

“Thank you,” Mikey replies, ducking his head and pushing the cart halfway inside the room; casually nudging the door to shut quietly behind him. Not standard behavior for cleaning ladies, but standard enough for his line of work. Removing the easiest exit from the room.

He bustles through the suite, admiring the fine crystal of the light fixtures and the sleek design of the furniture. Everything is milky and warm colored, ranging from cream to darker browns. Hints of gold on fixtures really bring it all together, connecting the overall look of the room.

“God, I’m so sorry for the mess,” O’Neil is saying, walking around one half of the small living room her suite has. She’s kicking clothing piles into larger piles, grabbing them up and trying to get them out of sight. “I’ve had such a hectic schedule lately, I haven’t had time to clean anything.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Mikey replies brightly, shooting her a smile. “It’s my job to clean up after you people.”

“Right, right. You _better_ get paid for dealing with messy assholes like me; you definitely deserve it.”

Donnie scoffs. “ _With the kind of fallout_ you _people leave us to deal with? You bet we deserve a decent paycheck.”_

Mikey silently agrees with his brother as he bends to pick up the first trashcan. Man, even the trashcans in this place are better than everyone else’s. He takes the half full can with him as he heads back to his cart, dumping out its contents of meticulously shredded paper and takeout boxes. Interesting mix! Mikey is pretty sure Donnie would have a field day with the paper’s written contents, but sadly, that’s not what he’s here for.

He follows O’Neil’s movements with his hearing, noting that she’s drifting back towards him. She’s making pleasant casual conversation, talking about how the rainy weather lately has been awful for her hair and asking how Mikey’s been dealing with it.

“Oh, it’s not too terrible,” Mikey says, reaching under his apron. “Braids help keep the frizz down.”

“If I had time and energy for that, I’d probably set myself up with that style again.”

If she wanted braids, she really should have done it before Mikey got here.

Oh well. Maybe they’ve got salons in heaven. Or hell, given her family background.

“I know a good stylist,” Mikey says, “and I could hook you up if you wanted.”

“Yeah? Hit me with the details; I got my phone right here.”

“Sure,” he says, smiling. “But one thing first.”

Mikey turns, pointing the barrel of his handgun and its silencer at April.

Her fist shoots out, diverting the shot.

Mikey blinks- blocks the next attack, tries to realign his shot with the target, has it diverted with a well-timed slap to the wrist, then fails to break the startlingly strong twist to his arm, _loses his gun_ \- and yelps as knuckles meet his nose, stumbling backwards as the past two seconds catch up with him.

“ _Ow,”_ Mikey whines, feeling his nose spurt blood. “What the _hell_ , lady?”

“You’re saying what the hell to _me?”_ O’Neil says incredulously. Her foot shoots out and Mikey narrowly avoids the kick to the kneecap. April moves fast and brutal- punches aimed precisely and only diverted by the slimmest of margins. Except Mikey is unprepared to suddenly be in such a fight, and feels himself slip up.

Targets aren’t supposed to fight back like this. _Pampered rich kids_ aren’t supposed to fight back like this.

Mikey makes an embarrassing rookie mistake, and trips backwards over a stupid little coffee table. O’Neil stands over him, panting and still holding her fists ready to fight.

“Jeez, girl, you treat all your cleaning ladies like this?” Mikey gripes, smarting in both body and pride.

“Not all my cleaning ladies try an’ _kill me,”_ O’Neil snaps. “Also, your camograph nose is sideways.”

Mikey touches his face. He can’t properly _feel_ the holographic camouflage mask, but the reaction is automatic. He scowls, stripping off the thin microfabric on his features and tugging the hijab off while he’s at it; dropping the façade of a middle-aged cleaning lady entirely.

O’Neil shoots him an extra disgusted look. “And fyi, using a disguise like that is just plain rude to people who _actually_ follow the religion.”

“How do you know I’m not a follower of this particular holy book?”

“Are you?”

“Nah.”

“Well, alright then.”

Mikey is not expecting the crazy lady to try body slamming him, but with how the past half a minute has gone, he probably should have.

He rolls out of the way, getting on his feet and taking advantage of O’Neil’s prone position. He grabs her around the neck and shoulders, hauling her backwards and trying to strangle her. She responds by slamming the back of her skull against his mouth, splitting his lip and sending sparks across Mikey’s vision.

She elbows him in the ribs, wrestling herself free and making for the gun on the floor. Mikey recovers in time to give chase, tackling her away from his weapon and sending them both to the floor all over again. He tries to punch her, and she fucking _bites him_ on the arm. Mikey hisses and swallows a cry of pain, punching O’Neil in the stomach with a quick series of harsh jabs and forcing her to let go- but not without her tearing the fabric of his dress, and leaving a swelling bitemark underneath.

He gets off her, scrambling for his gun and snatching it up off the carpet. When he turns to fire, a vase clocks him right in the face.

His nose is going to be a mess of bruises after this, won’t it?

Mikey feels a hand grab his, trying to wrench the gun out of his grip, and he snarls and fights back- both of them catching each other’s opposite hands as they try and get the advantage. O’Neil is giving him a fierce glare as she fights him, surprisingly strong as they hit a stalemate, neither of them giving an inch as their arms shake with effort.

“ _You…”_ Mikey grits out, smiling nastily at his target, “are bein’ a real _thorn_ \- in my _side_ \- right now!”

“Says the guy- that’s here to _kill me!”_ O’Neil hisses back.

Then, she and Mikey break the stalemate simultaneously, both of them trying to knee the other in the gut and colliding as they do. They rip away from each other, the pistol going flying as O’Neil scrapes her nails along Mikey’s wrist, forcing him to release it as they dart away from one another.

Mikey realizes that Donnie has been talking to him this entire time, but his focus isn’t on whatever his brother is saying. It’s on taking O’Neil _down._

Besides, if he can’t salvage this on his own, his brothers will _totally_ bug him about it forever.

Mikey runs for his gun, which has landed under the legs of a plush chair by the wide windows of the room. It’s as his grip closes around it again that he hears the whine of electricity charging.

Mikey whirls, raising his pistol to take the shot, but yelps and has to dodge as what he swears is a _bolt of lightning_ blackens the chair, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning. O’Neil’s glasses shine as she aims the gauntlet she’s retrieved, the palm of it glowing as it charges and fires again.

Mikey keeps moving, avoiding the blasts, thanking his lucky stars that he’s the best gymnast in his family. Even with the gun clutched in his hand and wearing an ankle length dress, he nimbly avoids being shocked by the electricity, vaulting furniture and moving in ducks and leaps. Mikey overturns the small dining table as he reaches it, getting behind it and using it as support as he lines up a quick shot and fires.

O’Neil is on the floor before the gun has even gone off, taking shelter behind the couch. Mikey pants, keeping his pistol trained on where O’Neil’s head might appear. He takes the racing adrenaline inside himself and breathes it out in a slow gust of air, easing the slight tremor in one hand and settling his heartrate.

“ _MIKEY, god dammnit, ANSWER ME!”_ Donnie yells in his ear, finally breaking through the storm as it clears from Mikey’s head.

“I’m good, Don,” Mikey says softly, licking his lips as he watches April’s hiding spot. “I just… hit a small snag.”

_“I’m sending Leo- and Raph, too, actually. Fuck, fuck it, we might as well all go-”_

“No!” Mikey says. “No, dude, seriously I _got this_.”

“ _It really doesn’t sound like it.”_

Mikey’s face gets hot, frustration rising with his embarrassment. He’s just as capable as his brothers, _more so_ in some aspects, and he doesn’t want to beg help off his older siblings over _one_ measly rich lady getting a few lucky shots in-

Mikey jerks as something flies up into the air from the couch, arcing towards him- he moves to flee before he realizes it’s not a bomb but instead a pillow, but even still he can’t be too careful, who _knows_ what’s inside that pillow-

Mikey realizes his mistake right after, as he leaves the meager protection of his dining table.

The pillow gently hits the carpet floor with hardly a sound.

Mikey hits the carpet a lot harder and louder, shocked right in the center of his chest as his target takes advantage of his stupid choices.

He doesn’t hear Donnie’s voice as his eyes roll up into his skull and he collapses on the floor. Mikey doesn’t hear anything but ringing as he passes out.

-/-

Mikey wakes up very sore and very cold. Not the best combination ever, but he’s admittedly had worse.

The comm in his ear is offline; he can already tell. O’Neil totally shorted out his communication implants, because no way his brothers wouldn’t be shouting in his ear otherwise. Mikey tacks that onto the list of ‘reasons why this sucks’, and then hastily adds _oh shit, I’m tied up._

Also, naked.

Well… at least she let him keep his boxers?

“You know,” Mikey says slowly, testing the sluggishness of his tongue, “polite women usually buy me dinner before they strip me down.”

“I ain’t polite, hon,” says his captor, scrolling through something on her kPad. She flicks her eyes up at him, expression flat. “And for the record, trying to kill someone without so much as introducing yourself first is _way_ ruder.”

“I was the cleaning lady, didn’t think I needed much more introduction than that,” Mikey says, shrugging even as his bruised shoulder protests. Definitely the one he landed on when he got tasered by O’Neil’s suped up gauntlet. He sucks in a hitching breath as the raised and painful skin of his chest pulls, muscles aching all over from the shocks.

But. He’s alive, at least. Weird, since that first blast totaled that chair. Why would O’Neil adjust the voltage to nonlethal?

Questions for later, Mikey decides. He feels the cuffs around his wrists, listening to the sound their chains make and comparing them to the others he knows. Factoring in the weight of them, plus the context of the person who put them on him… they’re decent enough quality, but not top tier. The metal is enough to hold up against regular captives, but Mikey has a few tricks up his sleeve.

“Hey, how come I’m still breathing?” he asks, stalling for time as he sneakily angles his wrists right.

“Unlike _some_ people, I don’t up and murder someone in cold blood,” O’Neil replies frostily. She raises one eyebrow, humming in a pleased tone. “I’m more for arrests and legal handling of assault and attempted assassinations, resulting in the offender being locked away for a nice long life sentence. Which, by all logical reasoning, is where _you_ should end up… Michelangelo.”

Mikey freezes. Then, he purposefully relaxes. _Show no fear; don’t give away anything more than you already have._ _Don’t let her find anyone else._

“…Sorry, wrong guy,” he says, easy and calm. He winks at her, smiling coyly. “My acquaintances and friends call me Mr. Orange, typically.”

“Ahuh, that’s a lovely nickname, but your birth name is Michelangelo,” O’Neil says.

“It’s Gerald, actually.”

“Not according to your birth certificate it’s not.”

Mikey’s stomach is twisting, fear prickling down his spine. This is bad. This is _beyond_ bad. No one is supposed to know who he is- Donnie _said_ he made that impossible, that none of them could be traced back to their childhoods.

“I’ll take your disturbed silence as a confirmation, thanks,” O’Neil says loftily, looking smug.

Mikey doesn’t nod or shake his head, watching his target as she continues to scroll through her kPad. He darts an eye around their location- still in the hotel, just inside an office now instead of the living room. April sits in a better quality chair than him, while he’s been chained to… an office chair? Seriously? He’d have thought he warranted at least one of the sturdy dining room chairs.

Well. Even if its insult to injury- did she _have_ to take his dress?- at least it won’t hold him back with his next move.

“You’re kinda weird, hope you know,” he says, flexing his left hand and rotating his wrist. “Usually targets aren’t such a hassle to get rid of.”

“Do you think I’ve lived this long being anything _usual?”_ O’Neil scoffs. “I’ve dealt with assassinations my whole life. You’re just one in a long line of many, Michelangelo.”

“…Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name. It’s polite to call someone by their name in conversation.”

“Not when it’s their deadname.”

O’Neil raises her eyebrows. “Oh, are you-? You know what, I’ll be less of an asshole than you and at least give you common courtesy. What’s your current name?”

Heat builds behind Mikey’s back, scorching to his right hand. But the pain is worth it.

“Spotter, these days,” Mikey says, smiling ferally, and his prosthetic flares to full power- melting through the handcuff and burning up and down its length. He swings at his target with the deadly red-hot limb, moving fast enough he could probably even catch Leo with the surging attack.

Then he’s yanked brutally downwards, and his prosthetic arm thuds anticlimactically against the floor. The smell of burning carpet only persists for a moment as its heat gutters out. Mikey is stunned for a moment, confused as to why he’s awkwardly laying on his back and he can’t feel anything of his robotic limb.

“You really think I wasn’t gonna notice you got that kinda tech in your arm? Shit. Now I’m just insulted.”

Mikey rolls much as he can to his side, looking up at the lady he’s trying and _failing_ to kill. She stands over him with an annoyed expression.

“Bruh, why you got a fucking _super_ _magnet_ in your floor?” Mikey questions belligerently. His left arm is pinned to the floor from the upper half and down, fingers not so much as twitching. He’s not going anywhere any time soon; the whole thing is completely offline. “And- dude, do you _know_ how much work we put into this stupid thing? It’s totally busted!”

“You can get a standard issue one when you go to prison,” O’Neil comforts uncomfortingly. “Except, no, they don’t go giving convicts that kinda free shit. Settle for a nice hook or somethin’.”

“My arm is literally gone from the bicep down. _How_ is a hook supposed to work for me?”

“Be the weirdest looking pirate ever, see how that goes.”

Mikey groans loudly. He is _done_ , he is _so done_ with this job. It figures that it’s _him_ that’s getting kicked around by some conniving rich lady. He should’ve let Leo take the job and just stayed home to hang with Donnie in the lab.

“You know what? Fuck you,” Mikey says flatly, and flips his legs towards her. Snatching O’Neil in a lock around the waist, he yanks her off her feet and onto the floor with him- clenching his legs around his target’s struggles and trying to twist the right way and choke her with his flesh hand.

O’Neil’s ongoing shriek of indignation cuts out just as Mikey screams- the stupid taser gauntlet he forgot about electrocuting his system and making him lose his grip on her. Mikey’s head spins, hearing going weird as he pants heavily. O’Neil meanwhile shrugs off his limp legs, getting to her feet and fixing her mussed pigtails.

“Why d’you… hav-ve to… _do that, bruh,”_ Mikey angrily gasps, tongue not cooperating easily.

“Because you’re a murderous scumbag who keeps trying to _kill me_ ,” says O’Neil as she waltzes out of range, and oh my god, what Mikey wouldn’t give to kick that smug expression off her face.

“It’s… _totally_ overkill, dude.”

“ _Overkill_ would be me givin’ into the temptation to crank this baby up a few levels, and see what a crispy fried hitman smells like. _Dude.”_

Mikey swallows bile, head still throbbing. “I… really hate you.”

“You and everyone else,” O’Neil replies, but it’s more absently said than a direct response. She walks in a circle around him, watching for Mikey to so much as twitch, and retrieves the kPad she dropped in the tussle. While she walks back to the other side of the room, Mikey finally takes the time to look around for a clock. How long has he been out?

His search rewards him with a dainty looking analog clock on the far wall, reading nearly nine in the evening. It’s been almost a full hour since he arrived here, and he probably lost about that much to unconsciousness.

That’s plenty of time for a full blown panic to start, somewhere across the city.

“Hey, lady,” Mikey says slowly, smiling to himself. “You said you wanted to turn me in?”

“Yep,” O’Neil replies curtly, eyes on her kPad.

“Ha… you really shoulda done that right off the bat.”

O’Neil gives him a frustrated look over her shoulder, and doesn’t deign to answer his vague, admittedly menacing words. Mikey just sighs, aching head to toe.

He settles in for the show.

-/-

Leo does not regret letting Mikey take this job, while he himself stayed back and hung out in the lab with Donnie.

He does, however, regret that they totally underestimated the Kraang Tech’s heiress. It was mostly _his_ plan, this time around, so… odds are someone’ll cuss him out later for not factoring in enough variables to the situation. Probably Donnie. It’s always Donnie who cusses about variables.

Neither of them is cussing right now, except maybe internally. They’re keeping utterly silent as they ghost through the halls of the hotel- all the cameras around them on a loop and the direct phone lines down to the front desk blocked, along with the single immobile security droid at the start of the level receiving a hole in the head when it asked for clearance ID. They’ve also taken the liberty of screwing with all the electronic locks of the floor; leaving the other two guests sealed in their rooms until Leo and his family gets out of here.

A risk on top of the risks they’ve already taken, but a necessary one. They can’t be seen like this, not when they’re in the opposite of stealth mode and on the clock. Mikey’s retrieval is the topmost priority, taking precedence over being undetectable in their surrounding environment.

They are, as it stands, sticking out worse than a sore thumb. They’re geared up for a full-scale battle, prepared for whatever they walk into. Body armor and weapons on display, the dark coloring stark in the pleasantly lit hallway. No one even bothered to even try concealing themselves, what their obvious goal is here. Their pop would have rolled his eyes at them all and probably given them an extra twenty laps around the block for the recklessness they’re engaging in.

But, their pops would also probably understand if he were with them still. When it came to family, nothing else mattered.

Donnie takes point as they get to the door of the suite; tacking cords from his wrist to the scanner and getting to work. His pale purple mask, which covers the top half of his face and curves upwards over his head, whirls with color as he selects which ‘eyes’ he needs to see with. On the inside of the electronic mask are screens, but on the outside it’s a nightmarish collection of multicolored eyes- eight of them, in fact, all with different functions depending on their combinations.

Raph’s mask is no less intimidating, even if it covers the opposite half of his face. The red to Donnie’s purple of the electrocloth displays an inhumanly wide mouth, filled with twin rows of gnashing canines. They move in sync with Raph’s actual mouth, as he yell-whispers, “ _Hurry up,_ Don, or I’m just gonna bust the door down.”

“We are _trying_ to salvage this mission, Raph, not ruin it further! Let me _work,_ ” Donnie hisses back, switching out its white eyes for the blue and red. Donnie’s examining combo, for the schematics of machines, while the white is for when he’s streaming code.

Raph’s silent snarl would probably make a little kid cry, given how the mask translates the expression into something worthy of horror movies. Between Donnie’s insectoid look and Raph’s tribute to most apex predators, they make the red lines writhing and twisting across Leo’s skin seem almost _normal._

Well, not really, but certainly less bizarre than they would be on their own.

Leo is tempted to lean on the wall, waiting on Donnie to let them start the real action after all this sneaking around- but his professional nonchalance evaporates when he sees his twin go rigid with tension.

“Donnie?” Leo questions, not liking the unease written all over Donnie’s body one bit.

Donnie swallows. “I- I was busy with the cameras, I didn’t. I didn’t notice until now.”

“Notice _what?”_

“Mikey’s arm- it stopped relaying vitals,” Donnie says tightly.

Leo goes cold right to his bones.

“ _Open the door,”_ Raph growls, hands on his weapons.

“Hold _on_ , I almost have it, this isn’t run of the mill firewall- and his arm might have just malfunctioned, you know he’s always finding ways to break it-” Donnie cuts off, going totally still. The flashpoint yellow of his mask’s eyes is as eerie as his stillness; currently viewing things in heat vision mode.

“Mikey’s down,” Donnie says hollowly, and that’s all the explanation they need.

“Stand back,” is all the warning Raph gives them, and then he’s lighting up one fist in bright red energy.

Leo grabs Donnie by the edge of his protective gear, hauling him away from the door and ripping cords from the scanner in the process. Raph winds up, and with one blow, demolishes the reinforced door separating them from their injured brother.

As Raph charges in, the back of Leo’s neck gives a sharp stabbing sensation, and the world slows down. He darts forwards, sliding around his slower moving brothers in front of him and running into the huge suite. Time catches up again as Leo pauses, glancing around for threats and pointing his drawn weapon at shadows. A cry of shock is just finishing in the room adjacent to the living room, and Leo rushes towards it before Raph and Donnie can even finish catching up to him.

His perception warps again, reflexes increasing, heartrate spiking- and he kicks in the door with sloppiness he never allows, risking an injury at the speed he does it. He spots her, the target, the person who- who-

April O’Neil is standing in the middle of the room, and Leo’s little brother is lying on the floor, sprawled and unmoving, blood all down his face and a swollen black eye.

Everyone around him is still moving too slowly to catch him, their target’s eyes going wide at a rate Leo can see- and he presses down on the trigger of his sword, lighting it up with bright blue energy that can cut through just about anything.

Even a rich little killer’s neck.

(Leo regrets he didn’t take the job instead of Mikey. It was his plan, his mission originally, _he should have taken the job instead of Mikey-_ )

Leo closes the distance between them with hardly a thought, releasing the sharp sting of his heightened perception so she can see what’s coming for her. At the last second, as the heiress starts to raise some kind of gauntlet at him, Leo activates his accelerate again and dodges the bolt of electricity. He instead nails her with a kick as he follows his momentum, sending her flying towards the wall. She catches herself, winded and wincing from the boot to the ribs, and Leo whips his sword around to pin her there.

Plaster crumples and burns as he holds her there- tip of his sword having just missed the skin of her neck, with the burning edge hovering right by it. He rips her gauntlet off, throwing the shock glove away. Leo mentally clears away the red lines on his face for a brief moment- ensuring the last thing she ever sees will be the unhindered fury of an older brother who feels like something's just been torn out of him.

“You deserve a worse death than this,” Leo hears himself say, and barely feels sorry his other brothers won’t be getting a chance to enact their own revenge.

“Wait, wait, _WAIT!”_ the heiress exclaims, cringing away from the hot energy near her throat. “He’s not dead! I barely even shocked him!”

Leo sneers, insides wrenching painfully. “We saw his vitals go down, he’s _on the floor_ , you really expect me to-”

“Oh, hey, Slider!”

Leo stops. He glances disbelievingly at the corpse of his brother.

Mikey is awkwardly sitting upright, arm seeming to be stuck to the floor. He waves with the one that isn’t. “I told her you guys would show up soon,” he says, as Raph and Donnie cry out and swarm him for a checkup.

Leo stares a few moments longer, taking in the fact that Mikey is A) not dead, B) downright chipper for someone who’s been a hostage of a crime lord the past few hours, and C) _naked_ , of all fucking things.

“Why are you not dead?” Leo finally asks in a pained voice, after going through five individual stages of emotional despair.

“I’m not total shit at my job, ya know,” Mikey sniffs, like he has any credibility to his skills right now.

“No- I mean your _vitals_ went dark, idiot.”

“Oh. Yeah, giant magnets will do that to a robot arm.”

Leo turns his incredulous look on the woman he’s got pinned to the wall. “You have a giant magnet in your floor?”

“It pays to be prepared, for obvious reasons,” the heiress says primly. And then tries to kick Leo in the groin.

Leo does her the great favor of not just slicing open her throat right then and there, instead dropping her, keeping his sword pointed at her as she scrambles backwards to a different wall. “Okay, so props for kicking my brother’s ass. Even if it was probably stacked odds, since Spotter couldn’t bring more than a gun to kill you, it’s still a decent accomplishment to catch him off-guard like that.”

“Stop congratulating her on this,” Mikey gripes.

“I wasn’t done yet. Anyway, good job on that, it made things interesting, blah blah blah.” Leo flicks the handles of his sword, shutting it off and retracting the blade for storage. He draws a different weapon in its place. “Now hold still so I can shoot you in the head like we planned, thanks. It’s much harder to trace than me offing you with a sword.”

O’Neil doesn’t answer, doesn’t shrink away. Her eyes are wide and trained on the barrel of Leo’s gun, but- her hand, which is coming out from underneath the table she’s beside- Leo disarmed her of the gauntlet and thought that’d be enough, she’s just one woman against him and all his brothers, _but-_

This is O’Neil’s house.

She had a magnet that could key in on the alloy makeup of Mikey’s arm. She had the gauntlet when he first stepped into the apartment. Leo disarmed her, but clearly speaking, O’Neil isn’t defenseless.

It’s only because of his neuronerve that Leo can process all that, sidestepping the blast of O’Neil’s laser gun. Leo releases the acceleration and tries to pistol whip her in the temple, but the heiress ducks and runs, turning the gun on him and firing. Leo slows the world again, jumping away and narrowly avoiding the shot that he can feel the heat of as it goes past him.

O’Neil is running for the door, moving like she’s used to this kind of thing, fit and nubile and not nearly fast enough to escape before Donnie trains his gun and fires.

O’Neil freezes, eyes locked on the splintered, smoking hole in the doorframe. Donnie’s long barreled rifle glows purple at the tip, its length lit up all the way to the butt at his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t advise running,” Donnie says, low and dangerous. He twitches his trigger finger, rifle making a warning whine as it heats up again. “Not only would we catch you before you even made it to the door, but I’ll make sure you die _slow_. Turn around and take your execution with at least some dignity, K-tech scum.”

O’Neil raises her hands slowly, finger off the trigger as she turns as ordered. She looks shaken, a little scared, but in a way that Leo’s never seen someone of her social class act, she looks ferociously determined to live.

“Drop the gun,” Donnie says flatly.

O’Neil drops the gun.

“Now kick it away.”

She does as asked, sending the weapon sliding over the carpet. Leo stoops and grabs the thing, unloading its cartridge and tossing the pieces to opposite sides of the room.

“Good,” Donnie says, his mask eyes all overlaying and shining technicolor. “Now hold still while I shoot you.”

“Wait-!”

“Why should I?”

“B-because I think…” she says slowly, swallowing, “I think that you don’t have the full story here.”

“We don’t need it to know you should die,” Leo says, lazy and annoyed, slinking around the room to stand by Raph and Mikey. “Anyone in the Kraang family should.”

“I’m an O’Neil, though,” the heiress points out.

“Oh big deal,” Raph snarls, protectively crouching over Mikey still. “Just ‘cause you have a different last name doesn’t make you any less of a Kraang. You’re the _heiress,_ for chrissake. You couldn’t be _more_ a part’a that family.”

“Then why are they trying to kill me?” O’Neil asks.

“Uhhh they’re what now?” Mikey asks back, head tilt at a confused angle.

O’Neil nearly rolls her eyes, and Leo can tell she does so just by the slight twitch in the corner of her eye. He would know. He’s spent the last nineteen years speaking Donniese, which is a dialect unique as Donnie himself, made up of sighs and eye rolls and expressionless expressions.

“You didn’t check who put in the hit?” O’Neil accuses flatly. “Bruh.”

“Don’t you _bruh_ me, missy,” Donnie snaps, lowering his rifle just a smidge. “You represent one of the most destructive and corrupt companies on the _entire planet._ The fact that we’re going to get paid to kill you is only half the reason we’re doing this.”

“Uninformed idiot say what.”

“What?”

O’Neil smirks.

Leo has to swallow a bubble of laughter, seeing the utter indignation conveyed just with Donnie’s open mouth. Raph and Mikey don’t succeed in swallowing theirs and Donnie practically puffs up.

“Okay, now I’m _definitely_ shooting you,” Donnie says, raising his rifle again.

“No! No no no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay?” O’Neil says quickly, putting her hands even higher up. “Just, sorry. I couldn’t resist. You made it easy.”

“Keep holding still, let’s see if I can get you through the eye.”

“If you kill me you’ll all die, too!”

“Hold it,” Raph says firmly, putting a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. His false mouth is tugged into a tense grimace as he speaks. “What do you mean we’ll all die? You, what, set this place to blow when you bite it? Give a ‘fuck you’ to whoever finally punched your ticket?”

“There’re no bombs,” Donnie says before O’Neil can answer. His mask’s eyes whirl, scanning their surroundings. “There’s a faulty wire in the bathroom’s socket, but nothing else.”

“I knew it,” O’Neil says under her breath. “No wonder my phone charged so slow… Uh, anyway. No, like your… colleague?”

“Underboss,” Mikey corrects. Raph reaches and pushes their brother’s head back down, ignoring Mikey’s muffled snickering.

“Colleague is fine,” Donnie says smoothly.

“Like your colleague said,” the heiress continues, “there aren’t any bombs.”

“There’s another unregistered gun in the other room,” Donnie reports snidely, “but the bedroom is a bit too far to reach, obviously.”

“Obviously,” O’Neil says blandly.

“So if there’re no bombs, why would we die?” Raph asks. His jagged digital teeth gleam as he smirks, arms crossed confidently. “’cause if it’s a sniper outside, or a swat team waiting, I’m pretty sure we could take ‘em.”

Mikey twitches, drawing Leo’s attention as he suspiciously mutters, “ _Uhhhhhh...”_

“No snipers, no swat team. The reason you’d die is because,” O’Neil says with a sharp look in her eyes, “if I could get a hold of your personal files, then K-tech absolutely has them, too. Whichever of my backstabbing relatives hired you, they wouldn’t do it without insurance they could get rid of you afterwards.”

“You’re bluffing,” Donnie says immediately. “I- those are gone. I made sure of it.”

“Haven’t you heard the phrase?” O’Neil says sweetly, smiling with teeth. “The internet is forever, hon.”

“Guys,” Mikey says.

“No, no I _made sure,_ I destroyed the codes! I metaphorically and literally shredded them!”

“You destroyed _those_ copies, but you can’t actually ever destroy something that’s been on the internet.”

“ _Guys.”_

“You’re lying. You just don’t want us to kill you.”

“Of course I don’t want you to kill me, but I’m not lying! I’ve just kinda figured out it’d be better to prolong my life by siding with you guys, mostly ‘cause if you don’t help me you’ll die, too.”

“Whatever you have on us is fake, there’s no way, just _no way_ you-!”

“ _GUYS!”_ Mikey shouts, finally interrupting the catfight.

“ _What?!”_ Donnie and O’Neil snap at the same time.

Mikey huffs, raising his head and shooting Donnie a look. “She’s tellin’ the truth, Soft-touch. She knew my name. She probs has the rest of our files, too.”

Leo sucks in a sharp breath. Donnie’s grip on his rifle goes white knuckled, and Raph stands with a dark look in his eyes.

“…We’re listening,” he says, and, fuck. Leo hates it when Raph has to use his actually serious voice. It means they’ve really ended up in a shitty situation and have very few, if only one option out of it. Too many times he’s heard it used when his big brother did something for the sake of their family.

They’re so far from where they started, and yet, some things have just stubbornly stayed the same.

The heiress and former target lowers her hands, keeping them placidly by her sides. “K-tech is a vicious, unrelenting company,” she says, glasses gleaming in the room’s light as she lifts her chin in defiance. “The people who run it are the same. They don’t let people get away, and they don’t leave loose ends. You were all on their shit list as much as I am, the second you signed on.”

Leo shifts his stance, tightening his grip on his gun. “So what are you proposing?” he asks coolly.

“Like y’all said. I’m the heiress to the company. In three days I’m going to walk into a courtroom, sign the papers that frees K-tech from the control of my guardian, and walk out the richest, most powerful person in North America.” O’Neil smiles bitterly. “That is, if I can survive the next seventy-two hours. That’s where you come in.”

“You want us to guard you,” Raph states.

“Yes.”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“I’m sadly not. This was my last hiding spot; I’m officially out of cards to play after nearly fifteen years of dodging death. They killed or bribed every security team I ever hired. They evidently know every single residence I own, even the safe houses. They put-” She stutters for a moment, voice wavering before O’Neil regains control of herself. “…They put my bodyguard since birth in the intensive care unit. The only reason that’s not the morgue is ‘cause she was better than anyone, and even then, I had to have her sent out of the country to keep her safe.”

“You’re not sellin’ the bodyguarding gig for us,” Leo says dryly.

“What if it comes with a twenty million dollar payoff?”

They all practically stop breathing. Leo is almost certain he heard that wrong, but. K-tech is the biggest mega corporation in the world. They dabble in billions every day. But, _surely_ that much isn’t possible, right? Too good to be true?

Donnie recovers first. “Make it thirty,” he says.

“Done,” O’Neil replies.

“Forty.”

“Done.”

“F-fifty.”

“ _Done,”_ O’Neil all but growls. “Look, it doesn’t matter how much money you want. I’ll give it to you. If I live through the next seventy-two hours, I’ll be able to do _anything…_ including scrub the entirety of the K-tech internal systems for anything relating to you four.”

Her words hang in the air, tempting and dangerous. Leo almost opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, continuing to think.

“…Let Spotter off the floor, first,” Donnie says, and O’Neil nods. She makes a show of displaying her hands, then slowly drawing out her phone from her suit’s pocket. She barely has to tap it twice before Mikey makes a relieved noise and jumps up off the carpet.

“Where the hell did you put my clothes, dude?” he asks, evidently dead prosthetic swinging by his side. O’Neil points wordlessly at a chaise in the corner, and Mikey heads towards it to retrieve his items. Donnie casts a mournful look at the ruined cybernetic limb as their brother does so. They’ll probably be hearing about this one for weeks, if not months.

…From Mikey, too, seeing as Leo’s single younger sibling is currently trying to pull on his loose dressy pants one handed, still suffering from multiple injuries and out of practice with that sort of thing. Also, after having put on his shoes before the pants. Because Mikey logic never became any clearer.

Turning away from that particular oddity, Leo mulls over the proposition a little more, and then sighs. He touches Raph’s arm, drawing his brother’s attention. “We have to take the deal,” Leo says quietly, not missing the frustrated furrow of Raph’s brow. He pats his brother’s bicep. “I looked at it from as many angles as I could, and Snapper, I’m sorry but we wouldn’t be able to survive more than another year, maybe less. Not with people as far reaching as K-tech after our heads.”

Donnie lets out a long-suffering sigh next to them as he stands up, collapsing his sniper rifle into its transport form and tucking it across his back. “Unfortunately, Slider is correct. I ran a calculation of all the factors we’d have to count in, and… approximately a month after this, one of us would die, and then it’d be one after another per five weeks and seven hours.”

Leo blinks. “That’s way less time than I predicted.”

“Math never lies, and you were overestimating your own skills again.”

“Hey!”

“Both of you _please_ shut up,” Raph says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’re right, though,” Leo and Donnie say in unison, earning a truly annoyed look from their big brother. They both smile winningly. Raph glares.

“We’ll also be rich,” Donnie adds. “I like the idea of being rich and retiring young.”

Leo doesn’t hesitate to similarly add, “And we get to live, which would be a very good thing in my opinion, _and_ you can get that new weight set you’ve been wanting…”

Raph gives him a look. “You’re putting me getting my weight set at the same value as us getting to keep breathing?”

“Uh, yes?” Leo replies.

“…Dude.”

Leo doesn’t get to reply- there’s abruptly a shrill sound filling the air and everyone jumps. O’Neil swears and starts doing something with her phone, which causes Donnie to shout and raise his gun and Raph to power up his conduits and O’Neil to shout right back at them as portions of the wall’s plaster shimmer and become screens displaying video.

“Oh _shit!”_ Mikey exclaims from the back of the room, hobbling over with one foot inside his pant leg.

“Oh shit is right,” Donnie says in a horrified voice, his mask’s eyes pinned to the security camera footage.

O’Neil tugs at one of her pigtails, making a noise of frustration. “See? _See?_ I’m not bullshitting you here; we’re all about to die together if we don’t _work together.”_

Leo feels a sick feeling coiling in his gut, scared and angry. Whatever kind of network the heiress has, its detected the entrance of at least fifty heavily armored K-tech soldiers storming the building. They’re already climbing the staircase, visors blankly black and terrifyingly impersonal.

Death is literally going to be knocking on the door they already knocked down, any second now.

“We have to do it,” Leo says, turning to Raph. “We don’t have any other choice, now.”

“Well, technically we do,” Donnie points out. “Inevitable if prolonged doom is still an option, if a terrible one.”

“Why would we want it to last _longer?_ I’d rather die quick and flashy.”

“And this is where we differ, ‘cause I’ll join the afterlife only when I’ve made sure I’ll be taking everyone else along with me.”

“Soft-touch,” Raph scolds faintly, “your supervillain is showing.”

“A high amount of self-interest doesn’t make me a _supervillain_ , Snapper.”

“No, but orchestrating the mutual destruction of two major gangs-”

“ _Slider,_ I was young, I was impulsive, I’d hardly call that orchestrating. It was more like loosing two mad dogs on each other-”

“Oh my _god,”_ O’Neil groans loudly, interrupting Leo and Donnie’s panic induced spiral of stalling. “We’re wasting precious time, here! Either kill me and go get killed or just say _yes_ already!”

Raph growls, mutters curses, and finally throws up his hands. “Okay! Since we’re all fucked if we don’t work together, we’ll take the job.” He gives their new employer a dark look, the serrated teeth of his mask bared as he does. “But if you even _think_ about double-crossing us…”

The eyes of Donnie’s mask flicker red, and he steeples his hands as he picks up for Raph. “Well, let’s put it simply,” Donnie says, using that low, menacing voice he’s perfected. “People who double-cross us… don’t usually live very long afterwards.”

O’Neil shows admittedly admirable guts, staring both of Leo’s older brothers in the eyes ( _multiple_ sets in Donnie’s case) and not so much as flinching at their threat.

“I could say the same thing to you,” O’Neil replies, calm and steely. Her glasses reflect the red light coming from Donnie and Raph. “You don’t survive sixty-six individual assassination attempts by allowing disloyalty to go unpunished.”

Leo vaguely entertains the idea of joining in on the glaring contest the three have going, but ultimately decides his big brothers have it in hand.

“Hey, not to interrupt the standoff,” Mikey pipes up, having finally gotten his other leg in his pants, zipping the fly and looking panicky, “but we all remember there’s a K-tech _swat team_ about to bust down the door, right?”

Leo glances at the screens on the wall, and yeah, they’re really getting into hot water now. The soldier team is coming up the staircase at a pace no un-enhanced human could manage. They definitely are all equipped with top of the line implants, no doubts about it. If Leo and his family get pinned down by them and it comes to a firefight…

Nope, not happening. Mikey’s arm is still down and they came ready for a fight, not a warzone. They’d get themselves scorched full of lasers in the time it takes to blink.

“Snapper, I’m pulling a coup again and getting our asses moving,” Leo announces, marching over to April and shoving her out the door. “They’re coming up the south stairwell, so we’re taking the north one straight down _. C’mon_ , people, unless you wanna stick around to be the welcoming party piñata.”

“You pull a coup every second mission, Slider,” Raph grumbles, but does actually listen and get his ass moving.

“And you technically _hit_ piñatas, not shoot them,” Donnie corrects, though also he’s following along without any other complaints.

“Except at our parties,” Mikey says, hopping over to catch up with Leo. “You all remember the one for-”

“No names!”

“I wasn’t _gonna_ ,” Mikey snaps at Leo. “I was _gonna_ say, the one for that person we all know but won’t name, who had a party three months ago? Never seen someone destroy an innocent piñata so violently. And I swear to god, none of you have faith in me today.”

Raph puts one huge hand on Mikey’s head, mussing his braids even worse. “After the mess this turned into? Hell no.”

“Man, fuck off. Y’all aren’t perfect either.”

“Banter later, focus on not getting shot _now_ ,” Leo sharply reminds everyone as they exit the apartment. Because terminally speaking, _none_ of them can keep their damn mouths shut (himself included).

“I’d like it if we did that,” O’Neil says, keeping pace with Leo’s steps, but _not_ staying as close as she should be. Leo tries to steer her with one hand, but she shrugs him off roughly. Leo shoots her a glare, grabbing her expensive jacket’s sleeve.

“ _Hey,_ listen here, princess,” Leo says tersely. He doesn’t let O’Neil pull out of his grip, hauling her along as he talks. “We’re officially getting paid to keep you alive, so that means when I try and get you to do something, you _do it_ no questions asked, even if it’s just walking near me. Or else you’ll probably get us all _killed.”_

O’Neil shoots him a glare, but for once in the whole short, frustrating time they’ve known each other, she doesn’t snap or try anything. She keeps close as they move briskly through the hall, opening the door to the stairs and rushing down the flights.

“Don’t call me princess,” O’Neil mutters half a flight down.

Leo smirks at her. “Sure thing, your highness.”

O’Neil’s heel narrowly misses his toes. Leo can’t judge if that was intended or not. The near miss, not that she’d stomp on his feet in general.

Whatever. God damn corporate scum. Leo will let it slide, if only because they’ll be set for life when this is all over.

The door to their stairwell above slams open, and heavy boots thud down the stairs after them. Leo grabs O’Neil and drags her into a sprint with him and his brothers.

They’ll be set for life, that is, if they can _live_ through this all.


	2. Driving Laws Are Just Guidelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft-touch lets out a somewhat disconcerting laugh. “Well, it’s a good thing I have this, then.” He thumbs three buttons on the complex dashboard, and then moves the gear shift five notches up.
> 
> “Oh god,” Slider says, and Michelangelo on April’s other side gulps audibly.
> 
> “Hold onto your seats!” Soft-touch exclaims gleefully, and punches the accelerator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back at it again, have some more disaster in motion.
> 
> my only regret about this fic is that rottmnt casey hasn't been introduced to us, so i couldn't in good conscience include him in this fic. cest la vie, maybe i'll do a sequel-ish thing sometime in the future.

April is far from foolish. She takes risks often enough, yes, but she knows her limits and how to work around them. She didn’t survive this long by being unable to take care of herself.

That being said, her latest choice of action to extend her life might be a little riskier than her previous ones.

In her defense, sprinting down dozens of stair flights at top speed, while being shot at from behind and in the company of hired hitmen- this really is her only option here. If her safe house’s location was found out by her relatives once, then no doubt the others will be compromised, too. She doesn’t have any choice now but to do as the four men- boys? The smallest one seems awfully young- surrounding her tell her to.

To a point, of course. If they try to pull a fast one on her, she’ll leak their faces and information to the entire internet before her relatives do. They’d never have a day of peace again if they try and flip their deal. The timed release program in her email- it’ll send their profiles to all the major news network executives in NYC, unless she’s alive to dismiss the digital time bomb in another twenty-four hours.

Attached to those profiles is everything she’s managed to accumulate on her family. Evidence against them and their many crimes, as solid as she could get. Insurance that when she goes down, everyone around her does, too. Should the four hitmen she’s hired even hint at betraying her, she’ll play her final card.

You don’t survive in the top levels of society by playing gentle with your opponents, _or_ business partners.

Political scheming can come later, however. April is a bit preoccupied at the moment.

“Give us some breathing room!” exclaims Slider, his vibrantly glowing tattoos obscuring April’s sight of his face. The man in the freaky eye mask takes his cue and slaps a handful of black disks to the wall as they run down another flight.

This time, rather than bolting down the next one right after, Michelangelo- _Spotter,_ of all things, what a bizarre set of nicknames these four have- darts forwards and yanks open the door onto the level. April swallows an indignant noise as she’s unceremoniously shoved through the open door, and near trampled by everyone else piling in after.

“ _Cover your ears!”_ reminds Soft-touch, slapping his hands over his ears. When everyone does the same, April catches the drift that he’s serious and follows the order.

An explosion rocks the building.

“OH- my fucking _g-”_ April’s startled oath is cut off as she’s dragged back out onto the stairway, the door open again already before the dust has even settled. The part of the stairs where Soft-touch left his devices is falling apart in chunks; the swat team stalled by the sudden lack of walkway. They open fire again as they all resume running downwards, and April feels heat pass her too close for comfort.

“Wow, they really want you dead,” Michelangelo remarks, glancing over his shoulder. April risks glance for herself and sees their pursuers leaping over the considerable gap in the staircase. Most make it, but a few bite the dust. She’s not sorry in the least for the people breaking their bones trying to off her.

“Money makes people stupid,” Soft-touch remarks cynically, and he’s not wrong about that. April’s seen it herself, except when-

“Except when it makes them crazy,” she says darkly, bitter hate sweeping up in her. No one responds- this is a really bad time for chit-chat anyway- but she does earn an unreadable look from the biggest hitman, Snapper.

Privately, April is on the fence about the nicknames they’re using. On the one hand, great commitment to everyone having an S name. On the other, what do they even _mean?_

She’d also maybe, possibly, under duress might admit the names are a little cool. But this isn’t the sort of duress that has any place for that.

They hit the ground floor _finally_ , April feeling a distinct kink in her rib cage and raggedness to her breathing. There are barely three flights between them and their pursuers, so there’s no time wasted kicking open the exit and sealing it behind them. April notes it’s again Soft-touch who takes care of that- the hitman welding a portion of the door shut. He’s so prepared for everything it’s impressive.

April is a little less impressed with Slider, who is still hauling her along like she’s got no say in things- she maybe doesn’t, but she’s an _O’Neil,_ people don’t treat an O’Neil like this, let alone one that’s an _O’Neil-Kraang_. That, and the fact that he’s led them down a service hallway, steered them all through the nearest exit, and left them smack in the open of the street.

“Excuse me, is your plan to make us even _easier_ to shoot?” April demands, a tad shrill.

“No! _Obviously,”_ snaps Slider. As though the five of them aren’t drawing every single eye to them right now; April maybe less so than the rest of them, but she’s in a group of people who are _clearly_ up to something illegal.

And oh, what a wonderful addition to the chaos of things- there are sirens howling down the street at them, as well as several unmarked black vehicles spitting out reinforcement ‘security officers’ close by.

April unwillingly shrinks deeper into their cluster, seeing a dozen glowing ends of laser guns aimed their way. “Well, this’d be a good moment to explain how it’s _not!”_

“Just- shut up and move!” And with that encouraging statement, April is hurried along with their motley crew towards the nearest side street. The whine of laser blasts fills the air behind their retreat, and April thanks the heavens that she’s not unfamiliar with serious physical exertion.

They skid into a staff parking lot- dozens of ordinary middle class cars all in rows. They weave through them all, headed straight for one that’s not only beat up, but is probably ten years out of date.

_“Please_ tell me that’s not the getaway car,” April despairs. It’s starting to look like she should have just stuck with defending herself.

“Yep,” says Soft-touch, “and you better respect her for it.” As he says that, he taps his wrist and the car roars to life.

It also shimmers all over, its faded paint job and dented fender vanishing. Underneath is a sleek custom designed vehicle; April knows, because her family’s company has its hooks in vehicular production, too. It’s not like any of the models on sale, now or in the past. Judging at a glance, just the way its frame is built and the shine the windows have, it might actually have _military_ _grade_ parts.

Which, in an urban setting, is all kinds of illegal. But they’re also being hunted down like dogs right now, which is twice or three times as illegal, so the legality of the hitmen’s tech and ride is moot point.

Soft-touch opens a backseat door and Michelangelo dives in first. April finds herself shoved roughly inside right after, and Slider clambers in behind her. Snapper and Soft-touch take the front seat, just as the Kraang Tech mercenaries hit the parking lot and raise their weapons to fire.

“Everyone buckle up,” Snapper says seriously, shooting a look at everyone in the backseat. April fumbles for her belt, while Slider complains, “Now isn’t the time for safety regulations- _drive, Soft-touch!”_

“What-” says the other man, “-do you _think-”_ as he yanks the wheel and guns the engine, “-I am _doing?”_

“ _Not moving fast enough!”_ yelps Michelangelo, grabbing April and shoving her head down to her knees as the window behind their head gets hit with a barrage of fire. It doesn’t explode in shards of glass- thank god- so she counts her lucky stars the windows are the laser-proof kind.

Soft-touch ignores them, driving the car over something bumpy and pulling a U-turn. April lifts her head in time to see their new direction- right into the midst of the people firing at them.

Soft-touch’s eerie mask flicks two red eyes into place, and he grins wide as he slams his foot down.

April is thrown back against the seat as they charge forwards; tires squealing and the sound of people screaming faintly outside the car. April shuts her eyes as they drive _straight into the mob._ She feels her seatbelt lock up as the car runs over far too many bumps.

“ _D-_ bro! Running over people is overkill!” Michelangelo shouts.

“I only hit like two, that was mostly just their guns!”

“ _Still!”_

“They’re being paid for this anyway- they’ve probably got healthcare!”

April opens her eyes just in time to see a squad of police vehicles enter their path. She screams as Soft-touch drives straight at them _too,_ and maneuvers the car miraculously through the whole wreck in progress.

“Oh my god,” she gulps, digging her nails into the upholstery as Soft-touch drives them into the flow of traffic and hits the accelerator _again._ Honking follows their every move, and then so do sirens as the police give chase.

“Uh, the laser swat team is still following,” Slider informs them, looking out the back window. “That makes not one, but _two_ corporate sponsored law forces trying to kill us, now.” April still can’t see his face clearly; the patterns within the patterns of his tattoos making her dizzy whenever she tries looking him in the eye. But, from his tone of voice, she knows he’s as stressed about the volume of their pursuers doubling.

“Please, Slider,” Soft-touch says, voice smooth and smug. “When has anyone _ever_ caught us in a car chase?”

Michelangelo, with his one working arm, taps April’s shoulder for her attention. “You probably wanna brace yourself,” says the shirtless hitman. “Soft-touch doesn’t drive nicely.”

“He drives the _opposite_ of nicely,” Slider says in a tight voice. “He drives like a _maniac.”_

“Shut your heathen mouth!” Soft-touch snaps. “I drive _fantastically!”_

“Yeah, fantastically _crazy.”_

“Do you wanna live or not? Huh?” No one speaks the obvious answer. “That’s what I thought. Shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.”

“ _Shut up and drive~”_ Michelangelo singsongs briefly, before practically swallowing his words as Soft-touch sends them careening through a red light.

April decides, within that span of seconds as they dodge cars coming at them from both sides, that Slider is absolutely correct. Soft-touch drives really and truly like a complete _maniac._

The world outside the car is a blur of lights and noise. April can barely catch her bearings after the red light before she’s practically whipped sideways; Soft-touch spinning the wheel abruptly and speeding them down a new street. She’s smushed between Slider and Michelangelo as centrifugal force presses them to the side of the car, which is unfortunate, since _none_ of them want to be in close proximity with each other. They did all almost kill one another in very recent history, after all.

There’s the sound of cars crashing into each other behind them, as the police try and fail to make the same sharp turn Soft-touch had. Slider glances through the back windshield and curses, saying, “We only lost about three cruisers, and those K-tech assholes are still holding strong, too. Soft-touch-”

_“On it,”_ Soft-touch says, and yanks them out of the lane and _onto the opposite side of the road._ They hit the opposing flow of traffic and cause a massive backup immediately; cars screeching to a stop in order to avoid hitting them and hitting each other in the process. Soft-touch pulls a sharp U turn and sends them hurtling forwards, with what little of the ordinary traffic that escaped the pileup following them. They pass the police and K-tech vehicles still heading along the other road, and April has a moment where her heart nearly stops as Soft-touch takes his hands off the wheel. Using one hand to flip off their pursuers headed the wrong way, and the other to high-five Snapper beside him.

“ _HANDS ON THE WHEEL!”_ shouts Slider, voicing the collective terror of everyone in the backseat.

“I _am!”_ snaps Soft-touch, putting his hands back on the wheel; which is where they _should always be_ when you’re driving a car fifty kilometers per hour above the speed limit, _pursued by deadly force_.

April thinks she’s been screaming a bit, on and off the past few minutes, but it’s hard to keep track of. Soft-touch keeps driving them into fresh danger again and again, so processing everything has been less important than staying aware and _alive._

Soft-touch drives them right past the original intersection they turned off of, still weaving in and out of the other cars around them to get ahead. Absolutely everyone is honking at them, and April hears more than one vehicle have an unfortunate accident as they go.

“That should slow them down,” Snapper says, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “Guys, where we headed? After we lose our tails, ‘course. I’m open to suggestions ‘bout how we take care of Ms. Corporation here.” He twists in his seat, looking at April with suspicious eyes. His terrifying mask gnashes its teeth at her, sharp as knives and quite intimidating, even though they’re fake.

“Busy, talk later,” Soft-touch says, cutting a car off and getting further ahead in traffic.

Slider sighs, scratching his head. “We’re kinda limited here. We can’t just hit up any of our regular safe houses- if K-tech could get details on _her_ safest safe house, I’m not gonna bet on anything less than our best, either.”

“But taking her back home is dangerous, too,” Michelangelo cautions. “Even if no one else finds us, we’re still gonna have to move after this! Whole new place, whole new set up. We’d be vulnerable as shit for at least a week durin’ the move, if we wanted to take most of our stuff.”

“Honestly, though? We could just ditch everything,” Slider points out. “We’ll just buy newer, better shit when this is all over.”

“We’re not leaving my rig, or my projects, _or_ my office chair,” Soft-touch says firmly, shooting a digital red-eyed glare at them in the review mirror.

“I thought you were too busy to talk,” says Slider.

“You aren’t using my distraction as a chance to chuck all my shit, L- Slider.”

“Yeah, and I’m not leavin’ my stuff, either,” Snapper adds, his bandanna displaying a sharp toothed scowl. “D’you know how hard it is to find clothes in my size, huh?”

“We could just buy you some tailored stuff, bro,” Slider says, unaffected by both the toothy expression of Snapper and Soft-touch’s tone.

“Yeah, but I kinda like what I got-”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” April says, sitting up in her seat and raising her voice, “but we’re a _little_ off topic here. People are gonna be shooting at us again any second, so having a destination in mind would be good right about now!”

“The lair,” Snapper decides, nodding towards Soft-touch, who isn’t looking. As he says that, the road they’re on merges with others that lead up an in-city bridge. A maze of raised roads snakes around them, coming from all directions and heading every other. The sound of police sirens are getting closer again, and April doesn’t have to look in order know the K-tech vehicles aren’t far, either.

Soft-touch sighs as they go under the shadow of a bridge. “Wish you’d said that three streets ago,” he says, and then does another of his horrendous, gut churning swerves. Except this time, it’s accompanied by the feeling of weightlessness.

April, much later on, feels gratified she wasn’t the only person to scream in terror as Soft-touch drove them right off the side of the bridge.

The landing rattles her teeth, and April nearly bites her tongue in the process. Soft-touch’s companions all immediately start yelling at him for the stunt, even as Soft-touch yells right back and navigates the panicking traffic around them. For obvious reasons, no one on the new bridge they’ve landed on is happy right now. An armored car pursued by law enforcement falling out of the sky isn’t exactly a regular occurrence, even in this city. There are squealing tires and honking horns and at least one car veers into another in an effort to avoid Soft-touch’s rampage driving.

“Now that we’ve got a bit of breathing room,” Soft-touch says, once he and his companions are done shrieking at one another, “I think it’s time I really kick this baby in high gear.”

“We’re already twice the speed limit, D- Soft-touch,” Slider says in a pained voice as the other man puts his hands on scarily glowing buttons. “Do we _have_ to-”

He cuts off as something impacts the roof of the car, a small explosion following. Soft-touch curses and alters their course to avoid the next three attacks, leaving a trail of smoking craters as the blasts miss their vehicle.

“What the fuck was that?!” Snapper exclaims.

“They’re not coming from behind us,” Slider reports, looking out the back window.

“The blast knocked my sensors out of whack,” Soft-touch says, multicolored eyes swirling on his mask. “I can’t get a scan on them!”

Michelangelo is the one who rolls down his window and sticks his head out to check. “Oh shit,” he says in a relatively mild voice. He pulls his head back in and rolls up the window. “Yeah, we got drones.”

“ _Fuck-!” “Seriously-?” “That is complete overkill! I haven’t even hit anyone yet.”_

“What model?” April asks Michelangelo seriously, ignoring the complaints from the other three hitmen as Soft-touch swerves the next volley of attacks. They’re crossing back into the thick of the city now, buildings rising up to swallow their road.

“Three police drones, got the lights ‘n’ everything,” Michelangelo replies. His expression pinches. “Two of ‘em I didn’t recognize. They had grey exteriors an’ no branding.”

“Did they have reflective underbellies and six barrels to each blaster?”

“Uh, yeah. How’d you-”

“Those’re K-tech,” April says, dread in her stomach. “Specially commissioned by the military, an’ not supposed to go public for at least another year. My relatives have joined forces with the police, then, if they hadn’t had every officer responding to this on their payroll already. We have to get rid of them _now;_ they’re twice as deadly as an in-city security drone, and it won’t take more than a handful of hits to blow us to bits.”

“Fantastic!” Soft-touch says in a sarcastic voice. “Your family’s dedication to killing you really is something else.”

“Shut up and _drive,_ idiot!” April snaps at him.

“What do you people _think I’m doing?!”_ Soft-touch exclaims as another round of laser blasts hit the road around them. Cement explodes into dust as they dodge, sending up clouds all around them. Three cars are hit in the process, with their trunks or engines being consumed by fire an instant after impact.

Snapper, despite most of his face being covered, looks a little shaken by the sight of what could happen to them. “That was too close. Slider, get those things off our backs,” he orders, handing a chunk of tech back to Slider.

“Got it,” Slider says, taking the tech and attaching it to another piece he pulled out from under his seat. Michelangelo, without missing a beat, passes another piece over to Slider. April startles backwards as the now connected tech shifts and morphs into a long, wide barreled gun.

“Do _not_ swerve while I’m doing this!” Slider instructs Soft-touch, before rolling down his window and leaning out of it with the three foot gun.

“Don’t let a drone take his head off, either,” Snapper says in a slightly quieter voice, almost lost in the howling wind filling the car. April catches a resolute nod from Soft-touch.

“Plug your ears, lady!” Michelangelo shouts over the noise of everything, and April wisely does so.

She cranes her head to see Slider’s actions, watching him aim the gun as he braces himself out the window. April also watches as the drones drop from the air only forty meters away; closing in with their barrels spinning, brightening, ready to unleash the final wave of fire.

Slider fires first. The gun’s three inch wide barrel shoots a projectile into the air, smoke streaming after it as it spins. April watches, with growing horror, as it veers completely away from the attacking drones and hits a large group of neon signs hanging from a building they’re passing.

“L- Slider! You _missed them!”_ Michelangelo yells.

“You _missed?!”_ shouts Snapper.

“He _WHAT?”_ Soft-touch does a double take in the mirror. “What the fuck! They were _right there,_ how could you-”

“ _Wait for it!”_ Slider says louder than them all, dropping back inside. April looks back towards the building that he hit, just in time to see the dozens of advertising signs fall away from it in a fiery inferno- right onto the attacking drones.

The signs take every single one of the drones down with them, all in a beautiful mushroom cloud of flames and debree.

“You’re welcome,” Slider says, rolling up the window. Michelangelo gives him a brief round of applause, and Soft-touch nods to him in the rear-view mirror.

“Jesus Christ,” Snapper says in a stressed voice, running a hand over his scalp. “You couldn’t have told us your plan before you scared us like that?”

“No time,” Slider says, shrugging.

April pats her hair, feeling her coils snarl and fray here and there. Her glasses have dust on them, and maybe a bit of blast residue from the massive gun in Slider’s lap.

“I think I’ve lost at least a decade off my life in the past ten minutes,” she says, still patting uselessly at her ruined hair.

“Well, sorry for saving the rest of your life, then,” Slider says snidely, fingers running along the long barrel of his gun.

“Didn’t say I was complainin’,” April says, giving him a grin that’s part snarl. “I doubt it’s on my public records, but I spend a lot of my free time doing dangerous shit for fun. Ever skydived? ‘cause I have. Ten times.”

Slider gives her a look like he’s not sure if he should be interested, or maintain his annoyance with her. Snapper speaks up from the front seat, asking, “Then what was all the screaming about?”

“Screaming’s half the fun of being scared, right?”

“The woman speaks the truth,” Soft-touch chimes in. “Screaming is indeed half the fun.”

“Just what we need,” Slider says in a put upon voice. “ _Two_ adrenaline junkies.”

April opens her mouth to reply, but the sirens coming into hearing behind them distracts everyone in the car. She turns in her seat and sees at least a dozen vehicles in pursuit of theirs; an even mix of police and K-tech.

“Oh my god, we literally _just_ lost those assholes,” Michelangelo complains.

“I don’t suppose you have a couple more shots in that thing?” April questions Slider hopefully, glancing at his gun.

“Even if I did, killing police officers right out is _slightly_ more illegal than killing drones,” Slider says, looking frustrated with himself. “It makes people a hell of a lot madder when someone shoots a pig in blue rather than a white collar.”

Soft-touch lets out a somewhat disconcerting laugh. “Well, it’s a good thing I have this, then.” He thumbs three buttons on the complex dashboard, and then moves the gear shift five notches up.

“Oh god,” Slider says, and Michelangelo on April’s other side gulps audibly.

“Hold onto your seats!” Soft-touch exclaims gleefully, and punches the accelerator. They jump forwards at such a high speed April thinks her lungs deflate a little.

The world outside is a messy smear. They’re headed into the worse parts of the city- the densely populated, overcrowded, underfunded parts of it. The luxury skyscrapers and businesses have been long left behind, and now Soft-touch is driving them at an insane speed through seedier and seedier districts. The buildings cram closer together, neon signs blurred into a mess of colors- cars scream to get out of their way as Soft-touch drives, seemingly without any care for the people he might hit as he does.

Except- no, they skid in a turn that narrowly misses a group of jaywalkers, but they still miss them. Soft-touch has only hit what he’s intended to hit; their pursuers, and obstacles in their way. No innocent bystanders have been directly harmed by Soft-touch’s souped-up getaway car.

How Soft-touch has managed that and is still managing it, April doesn’t know. He said something about scanners- and the mask he wears- maybe he’s got more complex implants than ordinary comms or-

April’s thought train is derailed as Soft-touch rams the car through a barricade. Metal screeches against metal, and April has split second moment to look at the sign that scrapes along the window. _DANGER: DO NOT ENTER._

The buildings around them abruptly vanish, replaced by a growing tangle of industrial machinery. Pipes and tanks surround them, small buildings hidden among them, but- it’s s far from a residential area as possible. It’s a power plant. One of the largest in the entire city.

“You- you’re gonna get us all _killed!”_ April screams, seeing that their path leads directly into the thick of the twisting, knotted system of the plant.

“I’m in the business of killing, ma’am,” Soft-touch says, still grinning like a madman- a chilling thing to see in the review mirror. The bulk of the power plant’s machines draw closer at a terrifying rate, Soft-touch’s speed not decreasing in the least. “And believe me when I tell you, I know when something is going to kill us. This isn’t one of those things.”

And then Soft-touch cackles, even as the K-tech vehicles behind them open fire, and they all plunge into the power plant’s dense forest of metal.

“I knew he’s been takin’ those caffeine pills again,” says Michelangelo in a small voice- definitely sharing April’s feelings about their impending doom.

April barely has time to process that there’s practically a _wall_ in front of them- the turn so sharp you’d _have_ to slow down even under normal circumstances- before Soft-touch turns the car on what feels like a dime and powers onwards. The sound of something large and heavy hitting the row of water tanks they just avoided is heard, and April sucks in a breath she’s realizing she lost a while back just as they jerk in a new direction.

She twists in her seat, ignoring the pain of the movement while being thrown around by gravity, and sees that a few unmarked black vehicles made it through the collisions. But, they’re further back, losing ground as Soft-touch makes turns in the maze of the plant that no regular person should be able to.

April hears Snapper start to say they could possibly slow down now, right- but an explosion beside the car cuts him off. Pipes and tanks are hit by the laser fire from K-tech, exploding near or directly in front of their vehicle. Flames lick the exterior, but nothing sticks.

Soft-touch drives on, swerving and twisting and weaving them through the jungle of machinery. He makes another death-defying corner turn, wheels skidding across the concrete of the road, and lets out what can only be described as a maniacal laugh as a K-tech vehicle tries to do the same, and ends up overturning itself spectacularly. Another truck hits it, and they both go up in flames.

“Now where oh where could it- ah, there!” Soft-touch says in a happy voice, turning left with the car at top speed once again, and driving right into what seems to be a- a staff parking lot?

Soft-touch abruptly hits the brakes, tires making pained screams as they stop, and the engine is cut right after. Soft-touch’s fingers fly over the array of buttons on the dashboard, hitting them quicker than April can even follow, and then he simply sits back in his chair, practically _lounging._

“Uh, Soft-touch?” Snapper speaks up.

“Shh,” Soft-touch replies.

“Bruh,” Michelangelo says, panicky.

“ _Shh.”_

“We’re sitting DUCKS, what are you _doing?!”_ demands Slider.

“ _SHH!”_ Soft-touch hisses, finger to his mouth. “It’s fine.”

“ _How is this fine?”_ April says, ready to leap up into the front and take the wheel _herself._

“Just _watch.”_

A K-tech truck roars past the staff parking lot. And then another. And then a swarm of police cars. Not a single one of them so much as slows down.

The car is completely silent for a few beats, and then April says, “What the fuck just happened?”

“This is a dead zone,” Soft-touch says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “The only electronics that work here have to be on a private circuit or landlines- the machines around us screw up satellite feeds _and_ drone cameras. And, with a cloak on our car, and a quick edit of the security footage of this lot, we’ll be able to drive out of here without any issues at all. No one will notice us, even if they’re looking right at us.”

“Oh… my god,” Michelangelo breathes. He squees. “Dude, that’s _amazing!”_

“Good job, genius,” Snapper says, giving Soft-touch’s shoulder a punch.

“ _Ow-_ why are you hitting me while thanking me?”

Slider punches Soft-touch’s other shoulder, too. Their driver whines. “We’re punching you because that was _insanely dangerous,”_ Slider scolds, “and if I hadn’t already had years of experience surviving your driving, I would have thrown up like, three times.”

“You know what, screw you guys. I totally had that handled and you should have more faith in me.”

“Bro, I will happily have faith in you, when you’re not giving us _nitro boosts_ in the middle of a _highly explosive power plant_. Or throwing us off a bridge! You could have just taken the Whyte down to Main like a _normal person.”_

“And that would have cost us valuable time, during which we would have gotten _shot,_ probably! Fuck being a normal person if it means we get to live.”

April puts a hand to her forehead, sinking against her seat and letting out a stressed sigh. Her limbs are full of shaky adrenaline and her heart is still going triple time. Her glasses have slipped down her nose, and she pushes them back up with an unsteady hand.

April feels herself grinning.

“What a _rush,”_ she exclaims, stomach aflutter with butterflies and excitement.

She doesn’t miss Michelangelo mutter under his breath, “Figures we get hired by the _extra_ crazy corporate heiress.”

-/-

They end up leaving as soon as Donnie’s sent out a little robot to attach itself to the nearest security camera. Raph is grateful for getting out of the power plant; the cops and thugs that’d been chasing them would be locking down the whole place sooner than later.

It’s a quiet and tense few minutes, driving as casually as possible. Until they exit from a wider road used for truck deliveries, Raph is sweating under his collar, twitching at even the slightest movement outside the car. With the precious cargo they’re carrying, a bright flash in the corner of his eye could be anything from a regular safety light to an incoming missile.

Raph isn’t the only one who sighs in relief once they’re out of there. It’s still a silent drive back home, everyone recollecting themselves after the massive adrenaline crash that’s still hitting them.

Donnie takes them the long way around; unnecessary detours and lane hopping every five blocks. Raph wonders if it’s because Donnie is being pointlessly paranoid about bringing home their new client, or if he’s using the drive to calm down. Could be both, knowing Donnie and his need to multitask everything.

By the time they’ve rolled up to the apartment, Mikey is leaning against the window and barely keeping his eyes open. _Raph_ feels tired, and he was only there for half the action. Mikey’s got burnt spots on his exposed skin from the taser-gauntlet thing and has been through an extended compromised mission. Raph is pretty sure Mikey is going to half-ass his medical care and then just pass out on the couch.

Donnie hits one of his many dashboard buttons and opens the garage door underneath the building. He drives them in smoothly, and once he parks, everyone just sits for a minute.

“…Aight, everyone out,” Raph says, breaking the quiet and opening his door. His brothers and O’Neil all follow suit.

Leo is rotating his shoulders as he gets out, probably feeling the pull of sore muscles from shooting the mini-rocket. Mikey yawns and reaches behind his back to scratch at it with his working arm, nails dragging across the whitened skin patterns there. Donnie’s fancy helmet-mask thing is still flashing its eyes all over the place, so who knows how present Raph’s brother is in reality right now. Not the best thing to wonder of a person when they were the one driving.

O’Neil rolls her head side to side, grimacing and rubbing her neck. Probably got some whiplash with half the stunts Donnie pulled to get them home safe. Raph puts that on the list of things he needs to take care of, if only because he knows he’ll be thoroughly reimbursed for his troubles later on.

“Is this place really secure?” O’Neil asks, looking around at the mostly empty garage. There are only a few motorcycles to the side and Donnie’s tank of a car.

“Just us living here, your highness,” Leo says in a perfectly respectful tone, though the nickname earns him a glare. “We’ll be plenty safe, ‘cause if anyone knew about this place- the four of us would’a been dead years ago.”

“And the neighbors all know to keep their mouths shut, too,” Raph adds. Which, out of context and in a grumpy tone, sounds maybe a little threatening. But really, it’s just that the people living around here know the two most important rules anyone should know. One: if it’s not your business, don’t get involved. Two: never tell the cops anything.

They all get along just fine. Raph and his brothers even go to Mrs. Valtura’s summer barbeque every year. Mikey brings finger food grilled pizzas and Donnie concocts a drink that’s black in color and smells like candy. It knocks anyone who drinks it flat on their ass within three shots.

O’Neil doesn’t know any of that, though, and Raph doesn’t mind leaving her with the misconception.

The elevator ride up is swift if creaky. They really should look at doing maintenance on it sometime. However, as always, they step out of its doors in one piece on the fifth floor. The sight of their cozy mishmash apartment is more than welcome to see.

It’d taken a couple months to make it their new home, but… it is their home, nowadays. The building had been for multiple residences, but it’d been foreclosed when the people owning it went bankrupt. Donnie had found it in an online auction, bought for the dirt-cheap price it was worth, and shoved a collection of renovation tools into their hands not a day later.

Now, they’ve knocked out most of the walls. Open floor plan doesn’t even begin to cover things; excluding their bedrooms, Donnie’s lab, the washroom, and a few other miscellaneous storage spots the whole thing is open space. Chairs and couches and whatever the hell they could drag home litter the place, with an enormous kitchen and dining area to the far side. There’s multiple TVs and plenty enough room for all four of them to spar at once; their racks of basic weaponry in rows along the wall, mixed with their actual field gear.

O’Neil whistles. “Never seen anything like this on HGTV.”

“I wouldn’t have thought a corporate lifer even watched that channel,” Leo says, still needling their client like an idiot.

“What? You think I can’t appreciate home and gardening tips?”

“Have you ever even _touched_ dirt-?”

“Okay, I think that’s enough small talk,” Donnie says, grabbing Leo by the dreads and pulling him away from their highly valuable client. “L- Sli- oh what’s even the point of codenames if she’s got our backgrounds already. Leon, we’re gonna go do a system check, c’mon.”

“ _Ow, ow, ow, ow-_ Donnie _quit it_ , that fucking _hurts-”_

While Donnie drags Leo towards the lab, Mikey is making a move to break off as well; probably to go flop onto the couches. Raph snags his youngest sibling before he can, drawing him close to speak in quiet tones. “Uh uh, you’re getting a medical check before you do anything else.”

“God, do I have to? I didn’t even break any bones this time,” Mikey complains.

Raph points at the limp arm Mikey has. “Do you want that to get fixed or not?”

“…Yeah. Fine.”

“Go shower an’ I’ll meet you with the kit after. Donnie’ll be done with Leo by then and we can get that thing off you.”

“’kay, thanks.”

Mikey shuffles off to the bathroom, dead arm swinging as he does. Poor dude looks rough, mostly from the electrical shocks probably. That leaves Raph with their client, who is starting to look pretty rough herself. Her hair is frizzy from the wild drive here, and her pigtails _plus_ her expensive pantsuit have concrete dust on them. She’s got a bruise forming on her cheek and a burn on her neck, so Raph figures this is about time to do damage control.

“We should give that some attention,” he says. When O’Neil blinks, not getting it, he points to her injuries.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, please. Um, thank you,” she says, touching the edge of her burn and grimacing. “For saving me and for the first aid.”

“It’s what you’re paying us for,” Raph says, shrugging. “It’s kind of the opposite of what we usually do, but how much harder could it be to keep someone alive instead’a killing them?”

O’Neil laughs awkwardly. Raph winces internally; that whole sentence was bad for their working relations. He chooses to just start walking away, unbuckling the straps of his body armor and weapons. “You can, uh, go take a seat anywhere. I’ll be right over with the kit.”

Raph dumps the blast resistant armor and supplies belt in a pile by the racks, but sets his guns, knife, and tonfa on their hooks with care. Always take care of your weapons- their functionality and condition mean the difference between life and death. That’s a lesson their dad always ground into them, after they started using live ammo.

Raph pulls off his mask last, watching the electrocloth’s colors fade and the animated mouth close. He holds onto it for a moment, and then purposefully drops it on the pile with everything else.

The kit is right where it always is, just on the end of the weapons racks. Raph picks up the sizable bag- duffle sized, since they never know what they’ll need after a job- and hefts it onto his shoulder to carry back to O’Neil.

She’s picked one of the more modern couches, sitting with an odd mix of confidence and nervousness. Leaning backwards, fingers laced tightly, ankles crossed but her knees apart. O’Neil’s poker face is decent enough, hiding most of her exhaustion.

Yep, definitely a corporate bureaucrat. Hiding injury like a wounded animal, because anyone in her social circles would undoubtedly smell the blood and go for the kill.

Funny how that description fits the people Raph grew up around, too. Were he not kind of really pissed at the woman for beating up Mikey and dragging them into all this, he’d possibly think something like that they’re really not all that different. That the lowest of the low and highest of the high are all just the same breed of bloodthirsty, power-hungry, desperate creatures trying to survive in a broken society.

But, he’s pissed still, so he doesn’t think that.

“Mike hit you anywhere besides the face?” Raph asks, sitting down next to O’Neil and setting the deep red kit on the floor. He unzips it, ignoring the clash of colors its causing. There’s a god-awful orange carpet underneath their feet that has Mikey’s name written all over it. It’s been there since they moved in and will probably be there even after they move out.

“The stomach, a few times,” O’Neil says, putting a hand on her tummy.

“D’you want me to look at it?” Raph says, sitting up again and pulling on a pair of gloves.

“I don’t think you need to. He didn’t hit hard enough to cause internal bleeding, I would have been able to t-…”

Raph looks at her. “What? You hurt somewhere else?” He sees her eyes on his mouth as he talks, and puts the obvious puzzle pieces together. Raph sneers, baring the rows of pointed canines. “My teeth an issue, huh?”

O’Neil has the decency to look ashamed for staring. “No, no of course not. They’re just, um. Very sharp?”

“Sure are,” Raph says, stretching his scarred lips in a grimace of a smile. “Made it a bitch and a half to get punched in the face as a kid.”

“You had them done as a _child?_ Why would anyone do that to a little kid?”

“No one would, not intentionally. Blame it on one or both of my parents getting their DNA fucked with and fucking my genes up by extension.”

“…You’ve got Scalloid’s syndrome,” O’Neil says softly.

Raph looks away, irritated by the pity in her voice. He reaches down and gets some gauze for her neck instead of meeting O’Neil’s eyes. “One of the lucky few thousand, yep.” One of the few thousand kids that popped out of the womb spotted, clawed, or god knows what else.

The government didn’t make Dr. Scalloid’s invention of tampering with human DNA for fashion trends illegal before the damage was done. The adults who got stripes for fun or sharp teeth for intimidation- none of them knew it would carry over to their future kids. In hindsight, going in and changing how someone’s very DNA works? Makes sense it would affect the genetic template they passed onto their children.

Raph opens the packet of gauze and squirts some polysporin cream onto the white square. He motions for O’Neil to tilt her head, and presses the bandage to the burn. “Hold that there, I still gotta tape it.”

“Don’t you guys have anything better than this?” O’Neil says, grimacing but doing as told. “Mediband works twice as well.”

“And they’re three times more expensive than this, too.” Raph cuts off appropriately sized strips of tape and starts laying them along the edges of the bandage. “Sorry if it’s not first-class treatment, but it’s not life-threatening and you can probably get it fixed even if it scars. The kinds of shit they do these days? It’ll be like it was never there.”

“They could’ve done that for your teeth, too,” O’Neil says, and Raph stops, then lowering his hands after the last piece of tape is put in place.

“Why didn’t they fix your teeth when you were little?” she asks, eyes darting to his fucked up lips like it’s subtle. “It’s a pretty simple procedure to fix Scalloid syndrome- even cases where it affected the whole body.”

It doesn’t sounder like a judgement, but. Jeez. Ignorant as fuck.

“Simple, maybe. But d’you think anyone where I come from has that kinda money lying around?” Raph scoffs. “We had more important things to pay for than my dental issues. I’m just lucky they splurged enough to stitch me up every time I bit myself while I was teethin’.”

O’Neil looks horrified at the idea of that, a little bloody mouthed baby. Well, she’s the one who kept poking at the topic. Not his fault she can’t deal with the truth.

“I’m sorry,” O’Neil says. 

Raph huffs. “You an’ me both. But- that’s ancient history. At this point, I’ve had ‘em for so long, who gives a shit?” Not him, mostly.

O’Neil doesn’t reply. Raph finishes up, hands her a few cold packets to stick to her bruises, and leaves before they can end up on any even more awkward subjects.

-/-

Donnie is comfortably numb right now, and buzzing with energy everywhere he can still feel. Such is the benefit of being able to turn off your pain receptors.

“Are you done yet?” Leo whines somewhere outside the world Donnie is floating in.

“Almost,” Donnie says- possibly just thinks- absently. He rotates the blueprints of his brother’s neuronerve enhancer, overlaying it onto Leo’s body readings and digital skeleton. He grimaces, zooming in on a spot that finally reveals itself. The lit-up dot in the computer generated simulation means there’s something wrong in that area of Leo’s body.

“You strained your shoulder again.”

“Only a _little.”_

“God damn it, Leon, I _told you_ to be more careful.”

“Mikey was down, what the hell did you expect me to do? Wait until he was _really_ dead?”

“If you moving right now wouldn’t screw this up even more, I would come down there and smack you.”

A video feed of the outside world, which Donnie is mostly ignoring, informs him Leo is making an obscene gesture at him. Donnie feels for his physical body for a moment, and then returns the favor.

“I’m going to make an adjustment,” Donnie says, opening a new connection with the neuronerve and pulling up a wall of its coding. “You’re dropping from 85% output to 60% output for the time being.”

“What, no- Donnie you can’t handicap me right now! We’re doing the biggest, stupidest job of our lives. I was gonna ask you to bump me up to 100%!”

“And let you tear your tendons and musculature in half? Uh, no.”

“That shit can get fixed later, but not even us being rich can fix one of us being _dead._ I need to be at 100%, Donnie. You know I do.”

Donnie has a section of the enhancer highlighted, a twitch of thought from pasting over it with new commands. He’s hesitating. It gives Leo a long enough moment to bypass the maintenance shutdown of his enhancer and put a digital avatar into Donnie’s void like simulation. Leo’s avatar isn’t even near the complexity of Donnie’s, capturing most of his facial features and the rest of his body a vague outline. Because while his enhancements are better for offensive combat, they leave something to be desired in the digital realm.

“If I really get fucked up, we’ll have options,” Leo says, his arms crossed. “If I need my leg fixed, or part of my shoulder rebuilt, or- hell, my entire spine replaced. I’ll deal with it. We’ll have the money. I’m not gonna screw us over by not being at the top of my game, Don.”

“And what if… what if for some reason we don’t get the money,” Donnie says quietly. That’s his fear. That’s the thing about O’Neil that scares him. Her sort of people- they’re smart, they _never_ play with even odds. What if she rips them off and- “What if you ruin yourself and we can’t fix anything? Leo- what if you end up like _I_ was? Could you really live like that?”

Leo, frustratingly, doesn’t even flinch. “You did. So I could, too.”

Donnie sighs. “I don’t think you really understand.” And god help if Donnie ever had to watch his brother actually come to understand.

“Maybe,” Leo says, shrugging and making his blocky digital dreadlocks float around as he does. “But I know _you_ understand why I’m still ready to put everything on the line. Donnie, please. It’s my choice. I’m the one who stuck this thing into my neck in the first place; at least let me use it to the full extent.”

“Shouldn’t that be the reason why I _don’t_ let you?” Donnie teases tiredly. “After all, that stands as one of your stupidest decisions ever.”

“And look where it got us,” Leo says, grinning. “C’mon, it saved Raph _and_ my life that time, and its saved our lives a bunch of times after.” His tone changes, becoming softer. “It got you your surgery, Don. I’d do it all again the same way a hundred times, just ‘cause of that.”

“God, shut up, you’re not allowed to play that card,” Donnie grouses. Leo just laughs, smiling fondly, because he’s awful and manipulative. Donnie hates doing this, hates taking this risk, hates that he is, once again, enabling one of his brothers to do something dangerous and stupid. He selects the coding again and edits the restriction on output levels.

[remove restriction protocols: safe-use limiters 1-3.]

[ **y** /n acknowledged]

[removing: Bribes/Blackmail Likely Used To Coerce This Decision, I Can’t Believe You’re This Stupid, Leon If You’re Doing This Because Of A Stupid Self-Sacrificing Thing I Swear I’m Going To-]

“Why are your program names so mean?” Leo complains.

“They’re not wrong, though,” Donnie points out. He ignores his twin’s glare. “But in all seriousness, if you get yourself killed even slightly on purpose- or at all, actually- I’m going to code a digital remake of you and yell at it for a full week.”

“Aw, you’d miss me that much?” Leo says, and Donnie shoves him- something neither of them physically feel, being in cyberspace right now.

“Uh, hello? Hello?? Is anyone in there?” That’s Raph’s voice. “Leo, Don- guys, get out of your heads and back in the real world. Leo’s body is drooling.”

“Shit!” Leo says, and his avatar winks out of existence. Donnie laughs, pulling up a video feed of his lab and watching Leo sit up in his backwards chair, wiping his mouth as Raph chuckles at him.

Donnie disconnects from the neuronerve, freeing up space in his head for the other projects surrounding his mind. He selects the ready to use program he’ll need for Raph’s check-up. “Raph, take a seat. You’re next on my list.”

“Only if you come out here and take a seat yourself. And actually use your mouth to talk instead’a doing that weird think-speak thing.”

Well, that answer Donnie’s question if he’s been remembering to talk aloud or not. Apparently, it’s been the speakers relaying what he means to say, rather than his own vocal cords. “This way is faster,” he says, like it was on purpose.

“It’s also creepy. Don, feet on the floor, head in reality. Now.”

Donnie grumbles.

“Don’t make me invoke big brother rights.”

“Oh, _my god._ Dad said that to you _one time_ and you never let it go. You’re barely a year older than me.”

“Yeah, but I’m also the guy who makes sure you actually eat and blink once in a while.”

“Hey, I do that, too.”

“I know, Leo. But it’s different ‘cause I’m the eldest.”

“I fail to see how.” 

Donnie closes the video feed before he has to listen to their bickering really start. As tempting as it would be to just lock them out and start combing the internet for any worrying chatter about someone possibly having leads on them, Donnie… does feel a little peckish.

He leaves the independent scanner programs running, looking for keywords that’ll catch in their nets, and shuts off his avatar. The feeling of his heavy, actually breathing body comes back bit by bit, and Donnie asks his ‘office chair’ to slowly lower him to the floor. The rig’s clasps around him whirr and respond, extending their arms.

By the time his feet have touched down, his first-person vision of the world has been restored- feeding into his brain in all its three-sixty perspective glory. Donnie ignores the slight throb of his skull as he reaches to his back and unhooks three of seven the cables plugged into his spine. He can deal with the headache a while longer, he’s still got work to do.

Except, in perfect HD, Raph taps his helm right on the forehead, saying, “This comes off, too, Donnie.”

He scowls, ready to protest, but- he sees Leo also giving him a stern look as well. Two against one, and it’s not hard to guess which side Mikey would be on if he were here, too.

Donnie deactivates his tech, cutting the connection and letting his world go dark. A second later the segments of the helm split apart, lifting away and releasing the hold that kept it on Donnie’s head. He reaches up and pulls it off carefully, feeling the tiny wires attached to him behind his ears and at the base of his skull come away.

He opens his actual eyes for the first time in a number of hours, blinking at the light as they adjust. Raph takes the helm out of his hands, while Donnie rubs at his eyes and groans, moving them upwards and massaging his sore head.

By the time he’s ready to look at the world again- which less big, less overwhelming, darker and flatter without his OmniHelm program running- Leo has tugged out the wires connected to his neck and is wandering out of the lab. Raph takes Leo’s vacated seat, already tugging off his long sleeve shirt.

“Any issues?” Donnie asks, coming over, feeling his cables drag behind him as the rig slowly moves along the ceiling to accommodate.

“None, I didn’t really use ‘em this time,” Raph says, presenting the arm that had broken down the door of April O’Neil’s safe house. Donnie sees no bruises, which means the Armor’s integrity didn’t fail, which is good. At least one thing worked right today.

Donnie rotates his brother’s arm, examining the coin sized conduits set into its dark skin. None look burnt out or damaged. Donnie can feel the diagnostics program still running somewhere on the edge of his senses, but now that he’s actually taken a look at Raph, he doesn’t think he’ll need it.

“Congratulations,” Donnie says, dropping the arm. “You an’ me are the only two to escape today without damaging ourselves.”

“Hooray,” Raph says dryly. “What’d Leo do to himself?”

“Strained his shoulder again. See if you can make him do slow stretches and take some pain meds. Also…” Donnie suddenly feels guilty for giving into Leo’s demands for his limiters coming off. “Keep a close eye on him if you can. He, uh. Convinced me to take off his neuronerve limits for this job.”

Raph groans. “Dammnit. I can already see him doing something stupid.”

“I know. Me, too. Sorry.”

“Ah… don’t sweat it. He would’a tried hacking it again if you didn’t.”

Donnie and his brother both share an exasperated look, recalling Leo’s amateur hack job on his neuronerve enhancement. It’d taken a full hour just to get Leo to stay still enough for Donnie to _unhack_ the hack.

“So now you just got Mikey’s arm to deal with,” Raph says.

“Oh god, don’t _remind me,”_ Donnie despairs. His big brother laughs at him. “She- she _fried it_. I couldn’t even get it to reboot for a base level diagnostic! I don’t want to even look at the inside of it, I think I’ll cry.”

“Got a spare? We’re gonna need it.”

“Of course, but I was hoping he’d make this one last at least another month.”

“Me, too,” says the owner of the busted prosthetic, entering the room, “but shit happens, bruh. Like, big dumb magnet shit happens.”

Donnie hisses, annoyed by the sight of Mikey’s limp arm. All the work put into it. Wasted. “Because every good person has at least one super magnet related accident in their lifetime. Of course. Raph, patch him up. Mikey, sit your ass down and let me at the mess you’ve made of my baby.”

“I have shared custody of her, technically,” Mikey says, dropping into the chair as Raph stands, pulls on his shirt again, and goes to get the med kit. Mikey rubs at a bruise that’s probably under his recently unbraided hair, grimacing. “Also, I totally forgot how hard it is to towel my hair with one arm. God, no wonder everyone kept it short when I was tiny. _So_ much work.”

“My sympathy is tempered by my frustration,” Donnie says, grabbing his tools and hooking a wheeled stool with his foot. He sits down next to Mikey, glancing at his brother’s face briefly. “Hm, I suppose you were due for another broken nose about now,” he comments, seeing the darkening bruise on Mikey’s right eye and purpled nose. The pale of his eye’s vitiligo makes it all stand out worse.

“Didn’t break it, but… lady’s got a decent punch,” Mikey says, shrugging with his other shoulder. Donnie hums and rolls up the short sleeve of Mikey’s t-shirt, exposing the prosthetic’s anchor into his arm. Since the arm is effectively dead, the illusion of normal brown skin it should be projecting isn’t there; the scars around the dark metal prosthetic are obvious as day. Donnie picks up the two tools he needs.

“How’re the electricity burns? Anything we should worry about?”

“Nah, it’s just burny. I taste copper still.”

“Rough.”

“Sure is.”

“I’ll be monitoring your heartrate for the next twenty-four hours, fyi. In case of internal damage.”

“I figured. Thanks.”

Donnie rotates the manual lock of Mikey’s prosthetic, waiting for the _click_ , and then setting the tools down in his lap. He grasps the false arm, twists it, and hears his brother’s hitch in breath as it comes away from its socket.

“ _Oooh,_ okay, it had enough in it still to hurt, ow,” Mikey says, rubbing his bad shoulder. “ _Ffff-_ jesus, you’d think they’d invent a way to make it not suck ass every time I have to change arms.”

“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” Donnie promises, not entirely joking. As Raph comes back into the room, he rolls himself backwards, to a table along the wall where he drops off the dead arm and his tools. He grabs a cap for the exposed socket, to keep it clean and protected while he works on a replacement limb.

Raph is just getting Mikey to stand up when Donnie comes back. His brothers are minding their feet, since the cables attached to Donnie still trail the floor. Donnie appreciates them not stepping on anything and yanking it right out of his spine.

“I totally don’t believe she _didn’t_ say anything,” Mikey is saying to Raph, insistent and stubborn. “People like her _always_ say something.”

“It’s fine, Mike,” Raph says, tugging their brother’s shirt up over his face so he’ll stop talking. Raph starts dabbing the burns with cream, while Mikey just pulls his shirt off completely, tossing it aside.

“You’re doing that moody thing, I can see you doing it.” Donnie looks at Raph, and what do you know, their brother is in fact doing his moody thing. Expression just on the edge of annoyed, but trying not to be.

“Mikey,” Raph says in a warning tone. Mikey just grabs Raph’s face with his hand, squishing their brother’s cheek and looking him seriously in the eye.

“If she said something dumb about your teeth, I’ll go out and punch her in the face again, just for you,” Mikey says, and he is entirely sincere with that threat. It’s happened a dozen times before just like this, after all. “I got one good fist left, an’ she can hit me back for it.”

“I feel like that would endanger our jobs, Mike,” Donnie says dryly.

“Exactly,” Raph agrees. He smiles, patting the hand smushing his face. “The thought is appreciated, though.”

“Just say the word, whenever ya need,” Mikey says, dropping his hand. He takes the cap Donnie hands him, clicking it into place on his stump. While Raph finishes patching up Mikey, Donnie wanders over to one of his work tables, picking up the nearest tablet and booting it up with a thought.

The programs he left running display themselves on the screen, but he flicks them away and pulls up the schematics of their car downstairs. The _Tank_ , Mikey called it one time. An apt title. Short of making it look like an actual tank, Donnie has put a lot of passion into building his baby into an indestructible machine.

And after the ringer he put her through today, she’ll need some tender loving care. In their current situation, harboring a _severely_ valuable individual in their home, the Tank remaining at top functionality is a priority. The chance that they’ll have to make a run for it is too likely, given what they’re up against.

_Kraang Tech._ The single most powerful technological company on the planet. Half the richest one percent of the world has some sort of affiliation with it- whether by blood or by position. And they have the heir to that mega corporation, right here in their hideout.

April O’Neil’s power is terrifying to think about. She’s already a millionaire, but once she turns twenty-one in three days she’ll be a _trillionaire._ She’ll have complete and undisputed control of her deceased parents’ company, which is closer to being a sovereign country than it is a business in recent years.

Donnie is slightly intimidated by the woman, if only because this is like David fighting not just Goliath, but Goliath’s entire extended family, who are bigger, stronger, and have twice the bloodthirst. Donnie and his brothers usually just off one person at a time here and there for the right price, not go picking fights with the _entire_ Kraang Tech company all at once.

Leo is right. They have to be at the very top of their game for this job. One misstep and every single one of them is dead. Dead via unfortunate accident in police custody, or via last second betrayal, or via just a nice messy explosion to their home, leaving them all in puddles of grit and gore. Oh boy, now _that’s_ a cheery thought to have.

Which means Donnie should stop staring blankly at the Tank’s specs and actually go start working on it. Then Mikey’s arm, then finish the new shiny toys he’s been saving for a rainy day, and do a quick quadruple check of the lair’s security systems before all that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high-key favorite thing about this au is getting to bullshit all over the place about future tech. how is half of this stuff even possible?? don't ask me man, i'm just a writer. i failed my science grade the first try around.


	3. Feeling Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelangelo’s room is chaotic and bright, only vaguely organized in spots. The walls are covered floor to ceiling in art painted directly onto them, spray-painted artwork swirling everywhere. There’s a big closet that’s bursting with clothing, and another rack along the wall beside it with even more. Half-painted canvases are leaned or left in corners, sketchbooks littering the room the same way. There’s also unsheathed knives and other weapons here and there, but for the most part… it looks like a normal person’s room.
> 
> Or, a normal room for an extremely artistic person who likes deadly weaponry, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late posting this one bc i forgot how early my sunday shifts are,,,

April hasn’t left the couch for a couple reasons. The main one being that she just… doesn’t know what to do right now.

She’s achy, the cold packs are only just starting to numb that pain, and her clothes are a mess. Also, her hair. April absently takes her glasses off, taking out a small cloth from her pocket and wiping their lens; wishing she could have taken at least her comfy PJs before they blew out of the hotel. Her suits are good for when she wants to feel strong, invincible, brave… but right now April mostly just wants to curl up in bed and decompress.

She doesn’t have a bed, though, nor does she have her comfy PJs. And sometimes life is just going to be like that.

Sliding her glasses back onto her face, April stands and decides the first step to making herself feel less out of control is to fix her appearance. Her hair, at least. She saw where Michelangelo went to and came from for his shower, so April is fairly certain she knows where the bathroom is.

As she approaches the door to the suspected bathroom, April starts slightly as someone comes out of it just as she reaches for the handle. A shirtless man she doesn’t recognize blinks at her, faint reddish birthmarks vertical across his eyes drawing her gaze for a split second.

“Oh,” April says without much filter, “I haven’t met you yet. Who’re you?”

“…Dude,” says the man, “seriously?” He leans against the doorway, one arm raised to support himself and flashing thick blue stripes across his bicep and shoulder. “We talked like, not even a half hour ago. Kinda.”

April finally recognizes his voice, and- and his face. Which she’d only gotten a brief glimpse of during their scuffle, before it was obscured by writhing red tattoos again…

“Leon, right,” she says, confused as she stares at him, not seeing even a hint of those animated glowing patterns. “Uh, sooo…”

“You’re going to ask about the tattoos,” Leon says with a single brow raised.

“Well, it _is_ curious why you’re no longer an animated finger print.”

“Wh- it’s not _finger prints,_ they’re tiny anti-surveillance barcodes, plus patterns that screw up the human eye. _Very_ complicated, the cutting edge of camo tech- a step _above_ camo tech, actually. There’s not a single other person on the planet with it.”

April is not impressed by Leon’s spiel. Or by his subtle puffing up of his chest. “Ahuh,” she says with a neutral tone. “So where’d they go? Are they removable?”

Leon smirks, and without a word or twitch, April’s eyes widen a fraction as the blue stripes begin to shift and change color, winding across Leon’s dark skin and glowing bright red.

“Easiest way to hide big tattoos… is to make it seem like they’re a different big tattoo,” Leon says smugly, tossing his neatly kept dreadlocks over his shoulder.

“Wow, okay, I’m gonna go ahead and admit that’s sick as hell,” April says, watching the red markings shrink back into blue stripes. She looks up to Leon’s face. “How do they work? I’ve seen a few tattoos that move, but nothing this complex.”

“Simple, they _are_ complex,” Leo boasts. “Me an’ Donnie spent weeks coding the nanos for these babies- we couldn’t believe no one’d ever combined anti-surveillance shit with ‘em. Totally untapped potential right there. My face can’t be caught on tape or photo, an’ anyone who tries looking at me for prolonged time probably ends up with a nasty case of vertigo.”

“What a highly dangerous invention,” April says, smirking.

“We know, thank you,” Leon says, sniffing.

“Better hope K-tech or anyone else never figures out your secret; that’d create a whole new kind of bioweaponry that lacks a counter yet.”

“Eh, I doubt they will.”

“Why, you’re too smart to get caught?”

“Nah. All our shit has a self-destruct built in that’ll go off if our hearts stop beating for more than ten minutes.”

That gives April pause. Leon takes advantage of her quiet to slip away, towel slung around his neck and hands in his pockets as he swaggers. April watches him leave, and for a moment catches sight of an odd black shape on the back of Leon’s neck, surrounded by faint red geometric markings.

Strange. Those don’t match his blue tattoos at all. April decides to file it away, however, just like she files away the fact that the hitmen’s tech will all apparently _self-destruct_ upon their death.

It looks like she’s not the only one who factored in some insurance to her life. April revaluates her original assessment of the intelligence of the four hitmen, and bumps them up at least one level.

After finger combing her hair and wetting it to get some of the dust out, April smooths her suit and snaps her coils back into their little ponytails. She feels marginally better and less like her life is going to pieces all around her. April meets her own eyes in the mirror, seeing her exhaustion, and sighs. Less than three days and this nightmare will be over. Just three more days.

She can do this. She can finish what her parents started and get the vengeance they all deserve.

Leaving the bathroom, April lets her gaze wander around the… _lair,_ amused and confused by it. There doesn’t seem to be any thought to where sitting spaces were added; exampled by the lonely single chair away from the flock, and another five seats all shoved together around a coffee table that’s stained beyond repair. What a bizarre home to design, if there was any pre-planning to it at all.

Hearing voices from one of the few actual rooms nearby, April drifts towards it. She should probably find out where she’ll be sleeping while she’s here, maybe ask about a change of clothes…

Peering into the room, April sees the other three hitmen. The broadest and tallest one that patched her up, who she hasn’t actually caught the name of; the smallest hitman who originally tried to kill her, now missing his prosthetic entirely; and the last who she assumes is-

April stops, gut making a sick swoop as she finally looks at the back of the last man in the group. Dark purple metal gleams all the way down his spine, sunk into his flesh and glowing in spots. Cords are plugged directly into it, trailing on the ground and up to the ceiling where some kind of computer rig hums quietly. April knows of spinal replacements, knows of people having technology integrated into their body to better suit them to their jobs, get an edge on competition, but- never so _much._ With spinal surgeries- any kind of technological replacement of defective body parts is kept subtle, cosmetic surgery often applied to make them as natural seeming as possible.

There’s not even an attempt to conceal the interconnected segments down the hitman’s back.

April can’t help the sharp inhale she takes during the seconds she processes all this. The three hitmen in the room freeze, heads whipping towards her in the doorway.

“Uh,” April stutters, eyes unwillingly meeting the flat dark ones of the hitman she’d been staring at. She looks away quickly. “I just… wanted to ask about where I’d be staying? And, um. If I could have some new clothes? Please.”

She doesn’t get a reply for a few seconds, silent conversation passing between Michelangelo and the sharp toothed hitman. Then, the latter speaks.

“You an’ Mike are basically the same size,” he says, and April makes an effort not to look at his scarred mouth as he talks. “He’s got plenty, so you can borrow from him. Leo, too, maybe, if Mikey really doesn’t wanna share…”

Michelangelo stares at April for a moment, during which April gets the sense of being evaluated and assessed. She doesn’t fidget or avert her eyes.

Michelangelo eventually huffs and stands up. “Nah, I don’t mind. I can spot her a couple shirts an’ shit.”

“Thank you,” April says as he approaches her. Michelangelo shrugs and passes by her without a word. April glances back at Soft-touch and Snapper before she follows, meeting their guarded gazes for a moment. Understandably, they’re all still very wary of each other.

April leaves at a pace that doesn’t betray how uncomfortably powerless she feels, relying entirely on these four men for her safety.

Or… are they really men? In the sense that they’re mature and competent, yes, but looking at Michelangelo she sees hints of youthful lankiness still; not quite finished growing. She’d noticed it in Leon (Leo?), too. April had been too distracted by Soft-touch’s artificial spine to judge his age, and Snapper… seems like an adult, for the most part.

Still. April has a suspicion everyone here might be younger than her, by a year or two at least.

She doesn’t know if this unnerves her, placing her care in the hands of such young hitmen, or comforts her, knowing that to get a job like her assassination and come very close to succeeding takes real skill and reputation.

Michelangelo leads her across the length of the open space, winding around furniture and yawning tiredly as he goes. The door he brings her to is covered in stickers and scribbled marker; creating an overlapping chaos of color and word. As he turns the knob and opens the door, April sees that the interior is the same way.

Michelangelo’s room is chaotic and bright, only vaguely organized in spots. The walls are covered floor to ceiling in art painted directly onto them, spray-painted artwork swirling everywhere. There’s a big closet that’s bursting with clothing, and another rack along the wall beside it with even more. Half-painted canvases are leaned or left in corners, sketchbooks littering the room the same way. There’s also unsheathed knives and other weapons here and there, but for the most part… it looks like a normal person’s room.

Or, a normal room for an extremely artistic person who likes deadly weaponry, at least.

Michelangelo kicks a capped spray paint can away from the closet, gesturing at its contents. “Here, knock yourself out. I won’t even need half of these after we retire anyway.” He goes to his bed, flopping onto the thick comforter and disturbing the dozens of pillows strewn across it. April hesitates briefly before moving to sort through the clothes, very aware of the eyes trained on her.

She’s a little surprised to find such a variety. And, to find multiple types of work uniform. Nurse, construction worker, security guard…

“You get temp jobs between assassinations?” April asks jokingly, touching the sleeve of a cook’s smock.

“Ha, no,” Michelangelo replies. “I just end up needing a lotta different disguises for hits, ya know? Up close is my specialty, ‘cause I’m really good at hiding in plain sight.”

“Huh.” April runs a hand down a sleek, scaly feeling evening gown. “Neat. If I hadn’t been expecting someone to try an’ kill me, that might’ve worked.”

“Uh, thanks?” Michelangelo laughs. “…This is a weird conversation.”

“Never hung out with the people you were supposed to kill?” April asks lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him. Michelangelo gives her a bemused smile.

“Not really, no. Man… you’re kinda also weird, you know that, right? Most people wouldn’t be joking about almost dying with their almost-killers.”

April shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve had worse would-be assassins than you. You’re nowhere near the top of the list- I had one white guy that kept tryin’a make the whole killing me thing into a _kink_ thing, ugh.”

“Was it a race thing or gender thing?”

“Both.”

“Oh, I hate those guys. Like, _ew?”_

They both share mutual disgust for a moment, and then April goes back to sorting through the closet. She gets to a tracksuit that’s light green and has yellow stripes on the side, and pulls it out, looking it over for bloodstains or the like.

“Can I use this?” April asks, satisfied to find no viscera on the fabric.

“That one? You sure?” Michelangelo asks. She turns to look at him, and finds him tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “I would’a thought you’d pick one of my fancier outfits.”

April rubs the soft cloth of the tracksuit jacket and pants, feeling a little calmer for it. “It’s not comfy to sit an’ watch television in cocktail attire, dude. Even rich assholes can wear casual clothes sometimes.”

Michelangelo lets out a surprised laugh. “Aight, fair enough. You wanna pick out any more?”

“Can I?”

“Sure. You’re… not as much of a bitch as I thought.” Michelangelo doesn’t cower under the flat look April sends him. “What? Nobody around here thinks fondly of all’a you guys livin’ uptown. You should be flattered, ‘cause that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever said to someone like you.”

April purses her lips, turning away to resume browsing the closet. “Understandable,” she says in a polite tone, “but also fuck off. Not all of us are the sort of money hoarding, power hungry bastards who’re ruining the economy and the world.”

Michelangelo hums, not seeming to let her words touch him. April just keeps her eyes on the clothes, pushing the hangers along the rack and looking for more comfy clothing. It’s a few minutes later that Michelangelo breaks the quiet.

“How’d you get our info?” he accuses in a way that it could be mistaken as a friendly question. April is getting a sense that he’s cannier than he might first appear. “We were pretty thorough about erasing our pasts.”

April examines a silky black kimono with white butterflies on it, and then pushes it along. “Your arm and your blood type,” she explains. “You might have buried yourselves deep, but you can’t change your biology. I took a blood sample, scanned your left arm, and ran a comparison of kids in the past two decades that sustained that kinda injury with your blood type. You were the only result to come up.”

Michelangelo groans. “God, figures it was the hospital records. We’re gonna have to fix that.”

April smiles smugly to herself. “Probably. What really tipped me off was that you and three other people had death certificates for the same date and time. It’s kinda obvious that if you were in front of me, definitely not dead, that’d mean the other three were probably alive, too.”

“Well shit. We underestimated you.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. It’s easier to sucker punch people when they do.”

Michelangelo lets out a cackle. April feels herself genuinely smiling as she also laughs. It’s odd. Not even three hours ago, they were at each other’s throats. And now here they are, laughing together.

Michelangelo is strangely easy to get along with. And April, no matter how uncomfortable she is with how little control over her life she has right now, doesn’t feel in any immediate danger, even though all four of the hitmen have proven that they’re not ones to mess with.

She was probably lucky that Michelangelo hadn’t been expecting her to fight back. If he’d tried a different approach, or known he’d have to counter her counterattack… April very well may have died in that room.

Not a thought to linger on.

“So,” April starts, changing the topic, “I know your name, and Leon’s… or is it Leo?”

“Uh, both. ‘s a nickname.”

“Okay. So I know both of your names, but I dunno the other two. Mind telling me? Calling you all by your codenames will get old fast.”

“…Wait, you don’t know their names?”

“I didn’t get a chance to read their files, just yours.”

“Oh my god.”

April turns, confused by Michelangelo’s tone. He’s running his hand through his hair, caught between smiling and grimacing.

“So you only knew one’a our names?” he says, exasperated. “Shit. You should’a said. We would’ve put an effort into keeping everyone else’s a secret! God, our dad would’a kicked our asses for this…” Michelangelo flops backwards onto his bed, letting out an odd sounding laugh before cringing on himself. “…Okay, I just hurt my chest doin’ that. Ugh. This just ain’t my day, man.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” April comforts lightly, “it hasn’t exactly been my day either.”

“Hhhhh… I need a patch.” Michelangelo sits back up abruptly, getting off the bed and bending to a drawer beside it. April watches him shuffle around its contents for a minute, and then goes back to her closet shopping.

She ends up picking a couple of t-shirts with funny slogans on them and some pants that might fit. If worst comes to worst, she’ll grudgingly ask to exchange the pants for some of the skirts in here.

“So, Michelangelo. You gonna tell me your names or not?” she asks after an appropriate length of time.

“Ugh, fine, yeah. But don’t use my full name, none of us use ‘em much anyway.” She hears the bed creak as he sits back down on it, and turns to face him as he’s peeling the wrapper off a little gel patch and slapping it to the side of his neck. April eyes the bright green of it, a little weirded out as Michelangelo shudders all over, shaking his head and grinning broadly.

“ _Hoo_ , yeah, that’s the stuff.” He rotates his neck, cracking it noisily before he looks back to her. April blinks at how large his pupils have become, darkening his light brown eyes significantly. “So you know me, I’m Michelangelo technically, but you can just call me Mikey or Mike or whatever. Leon’s Leonardo, the guy with tatts, the dude with cyborg shit going on is Don or Donatello or evil overlord to-be, depending on how much sleep he’s had recently. Raph’s the biggest one of us, an’ his full name’s Raphael.”

“You’re all named after renaissance artists?” April questions curiously. So they’re all brothers, then. An entire family of hitmen; its like something out of fiction. “Your parents must’ve been big fans to do that.”

“Nah, we’re not related,” Michelangelo says, easy as anything. He grins, a lilt to his tone. “The group home staff just thought it was cute to name surrendered babies after artists. They’re still my brothers, though, don’t get me wrong. We shared pretty much everything our whole lives, ‘cept genetics.”

“Oh,” April says, and searches Michelangelo’s face for any hint of offense at her mistake. She doesn’t find any, so she manages a polite smile and says, “Cool. I never had any siblings, personally.”

“I know,” Michelangelo says, chuckling a little. “We cased you a’fore we tried to kill you, dude. Rule number of being a hitman is knowin’ your target’s life story.”

April nearly says _if you knew my life story, you wouldn’t have tried to kill me at all,_ but she doesn’t know that for sure. There’s absolutely no way of knowing the brothers would have sympathized with what’s happened to her. They might have just tried to kill her anyway.

Telling the truth of things would feel like rolling over and baring her neck, so April bites her tongue and nods vaguely.

Michelangelo is jittering where he sits, and jumps up suddenly. “’kay, you can change in here, I’m gonna go make food ‘cause I am _starving_ after all that.” April stands to the side and holds her borrowed clothes close to her chest, eyeing how quick the hitman’s movements have become.

After he’s opened the door and left her alone, April glances around carefully for hidden cameras and the like. Seeing none that are obvious to her, she silently pushes her sleeve up to expose her wristwatch. Pressing a small button on the side, April scans for spy equipment in the room. She gets multiple hits for hidden weaponry stashed everywhere, but the only camera in the room is one with a shutter on a desk in the corner. Breathing out, relieved, April locks the door and strips down.

She wears sports bras almost exclusively, unless it’s an outfit that requires a strapless, so she won’t have to suffer chafing of support wires. April can definitely live with wearing the same bra for a few days in exchange for her life. The yellow t-shirt she selects is comfortable against her skin, and the soft lining of the tracksuit is just as. As much as she likes her dark blue suit, she prefers right now the forest green tracksuit.

Just as she finishes dressing, April’s heartrate spikes as she hears the sounds of a fight outside; shouting and thumping and heavy feet. Her reflexes skip flight entirely and go right to fight, so she unlocks and yanks open the door, ready to engage in yet another fight for her life.

April then jumps back as two people go screaming past the doorway. She realizes after a second that it’s Michelangelo grappling with Raphael, the smaller of the two clinging to the other’s back and both of them caterwauling at each other.

“ _Mikey- you fuckin’- get_ off _of me-!”_

_“GIVE ME DEATH OR GIVE ME DEATH!”_

_“That- that’s just you dying twice, dumbass!”_

Whatever’s happening right now, there’s plenty of room for them to do it. The two brothers run haphazardly around the wide space of the lair, knocking into furniture and generally making a mess. April is a little shocked, honestly. They’d all been perfectly professional earlier, and now…

“These are my bodyguards,” April says to herself as Raphael flips Michelangelo forwards and holds him by the waist upside down. “…I’m dead. I’m dead and it’s my own fault.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Leon says, _right fucking next to her_.

“ _Jesus!”_ April says sharply, cringing back from the hitman who’d appeared out of thin air. Leon smirks, pleased for scaring her.

“Disrespecting your own staff isn’t exactly productive towards good business relations,” Leon says, clearly enjoying his ability to irk April. To take the joy out of his game, April smooths her expression and summons the mask she’s cultivated after years and years of high society soirees. She smiles neutrally, keeping a polite tone even as she wishes to growl her words.

“Expecting the worst and hoping for the best is the full proof way to never be disappointed,” she says primly, “and to always be pleasantly surprised.”

“The optimistic pessimist, huh?”

“A realist, if you will.”

They stare each other down for a moment, neither of them giving an inch.

Michelangelo and Raphael meanwhile succeed in overturning another chair in their tussle. Both April and Leon turn to watch the two yelling idiots reign destruction on the room.

“What are they even doing?” April asks, sweeping the previous conversation under the rug.

“My guess would be the M-U patch Mikey’s got,” Leon says, not sounding terribly concerned. “He’s got a bad habit of usin’ ‘em when he’s on a binge with art and not sleeping for a few days.”

“M-U patch?” April questions, eyes going to the virulent green gel packet still on Michelangelo’s neck.

“Mutagen Upper patch. What, you don’t got ‘em up where you live?” Leon asks. April shakes her head. “Huh. It’s a pretty easy to buy stimulant. No side effects afterwards or addictive qualities, so no one can really criminalize their use. It just sorta drives people…”

“Insane?” April suggests, watching Michelangelo hook his legs around Raphael’s neck and attempting to flip upright again.

“Just a lil,” Leon says, chuckling. April then catches a confused expression flitting across his face for a split second, and Leon coughs. “Anyway. Ground rules: don’t touch our shit without asking, don’t go in our rooms without asking, and don’t leave here without asking.”

“Do I have to ask if I can breathe?” April says dryly.

“You’ve got an allotted sixty breaths per day, use ‘em wisely,” Leon says cheekily. And then April blinks and he’s gone, a rush of air following his departure and brushing against her face. April spots movement across the room and sees Leon impossibly over thirty feet away, sauntering with his hands in his pockets and whistling.

She stares. He’d done that in her safe house, too. She still has no idea what specifically it is, but she didn’t imagine it. Like, what the actual flip flying _fuck?_ How is it even humanly possible for someone to move so fast she doesn’t see them at all?

Is. Is he teleporting? The brothers all had unfamiliar tech, stuff April hasn’t ever seen, even within the confines of an industry giant like K-tech. Did they somehow finally invent _localized_ _teleportation?_

April stands where she is for another minute, contemplating the terrifying power of a killer for hire with the ability to teleport wherever he pleases. While April accepts the distinct possibility of her death via a teleporting blade, Raphael finally gets Michelangelo into a position he can rip the M-U patch off him.

“What have we goddamn _told you_ about usin’ these?!” Raphael bellows, shaking Michelangelo.

“I was fallin’ asleep!” the smaller hitman protests, clawing at his brother’s big arms. “We need all hands on deck, lookouts sharp, swabbies at the ready, port to starboard can’t sleep we’ll drown if the kraken comes for us now-”

“Oh my fucking god, I hate you when you’re high.”

“It numbs the burny pain, too!” Michelangelo proclaims, abruptly throwing his arm in the air and unsteadying Raphael holding him. “Twelve hours of energy and pain free existence, sign me the fuck UP!”

Raphael tucks Michelangelo under his arm, ignoring the hitman’s cries against it. “Yeah, no, you’re gonna sit on the couch and not injure yourself further, you fuckin’ maniac. Christ, is every artist like this?”

“You mean unbelievably talented and witty and skilled?”

“No. I mean being huge pains in the ass.”

“I’m wounded! Stricken! How could you say that, my own flesh and blood!”

“We’re not actually related, Mike.”

“Maybe so, but our souls are intertwined, practically mirrors of one another! You are my _soul brother,_ Raph!”

“And you’re high as a fuckin’ kite.”

“Slander. I am utterly sober!”

April tunes out the rest of Michelangelo’s rambling, accepting that this is happening and this is how far she’s fallen.

Michelangelo is dumped on a couch in front of the nearest television, and Raphael all but sits on him to keep him there. April lingers in the relative safety of the doorway a moment longer, and then decides _when in Rome._

She takes a seat in the nearest lounge chair next to the couch the brothers are occupying, dumps her temporary wardrobe on the floor next to it, and slouches into the soft cushions with the intention of not moving for at least three hours, maybe more. After the day she’s had, April has earned it.

-/-

April isn’t entirely sure why she lets it happen, but eventually her evening TV show haze is broken by Leonardo stepping in the way of the television.

“To celebrate livin’ another day,” he says with a wicked grin, presenting them with a tray of miscellaneous alcoholic liquids.

“Leon, no,” Raphael groans. “We can’t do that shit right now, we’re on a job. A really _big_ job.”

“I second that,” April says, skeptical of the whole idea. “I _am_ the really big job, and personally I don’t feel like dyin’ just ‘cause you all got drunk when you were supposed to be protecting me.”

“I’m down for it,” Michelangelo says, unfairly bright in tone for someone who’s got bruises across his face and napped the last few hours, dead to the world after his brief high wore off. He wriggles out of Raphael’s brooding on top of his legs, slithering onto the carpet and holding out a beckoning hand. Raphael scoffs loudly as Leonardo supplies Michelangelo with a drink.

“I smell schnapps,” Donatello says, appearing without a sound behind the couch. April shoots him a glare simply for his ability to sneak up on her like that.

“You do smell schnapps,” Leonardo says, holding out the tall glass with pinkish liquid in it. Donatello makes a pleased hum, stepping around the couch and taking his drink.

“Man, Dee,” Michelangelo says, sitting up carefully with his brown drink, “all you ever drink is either your death-in-a-glass or that fruity shit. Try some beer for once, will you?”

“No thanks,” Donatello replies, sipping his drink. “If I’m going to intoxicate myself, it will either be sweetly quick or straight to drunkenness.”

April watches Michelangelo sniff and down a gulp of his drink. She exchanges a glance with Raphael, who has begun to look resigned. April considers her options, weighing them carefully.

“Oh, don’t look so worried, Raph,” Leonardo cajoles. “We got Donnie’s insta-cure just in case, right here.” He tilts the tray a little, pointing out the collection of packaged needles April hadn’t noticed before. “If somethin’ happens, we’ll be ready.”

“Um, ‘cuse me, but what are those, exactly?” April asks. “Because I’m all for an adrenaline high, but not a substance high.”

“Don’t worry, lady,” Michelangelo says, lifting his glass at her. “It does the opposite of intoxicating you. Donnie had this awesome idea a few years ago about how to cure a hangover in minutes instead’a hours, so…”

“I made the insta-cure,” Donatello finishes, looking proud. “It’s a bacterium that’s dormant until you introduce it to alcohol. Its lifespan is only as long as it takes for it to eat up all the ethanol in your body. Totally harmless, totally genius, I know.”

“Which is _why_ we can drink without any guilt or worry at all,” Leonardo says cheerily, taking another drink off his tray, offering a bottle of beer to his brother, swaying it temptingly in Raphael’s face

Raphael mutters wordlessly, obviously dubious. Another moment of resistance, and the biggest hitman sighs in exasperation and takes the drink.

April shakes her head, flabbergasted at Donatello’s nonchalance about cultivating such a creation and not _telling anyone._ “How have you not taken this to an industrial level? You could make billions off this.”

“My inventions aren’t for sale,” Donatello says simply, and takes another sip of his schnapps. April gets the hint that he doesn’t want to discuss the topic further.

“Point being,” Leonardo says, “we will be perfectly fine, and what’s happened today is a cause for celebration! A big job, no one got shot or died, we have a grudging guest who’s going to make us millionaires- I’d say this is an excellent time to cut a little loose!”

“You’re gonna get us all killed,” Raphael mutters pessimistically, tentatively sipping his beer.

“Only if we get _really_ drunk, which we won’t.” Leonardo turns, bending a little and offering the tray to April. “And what’s your highness’s poison tonight, hm?”

“…If you just made a pun about me taking a drink from you and dying of poison,” April says slowly, “I will come back from the dead just to strangle you for it.”

Donatello snorts, smiling just a little, which is the only smile April has yet seen from him. “You’d have to get in line for that one,” he states dryly, laughing again as Leonardo gives him an exaggerated wounded expression.

“If I _were_ to poison her right now- which I’m not,” Leonardo says quickly, looking to April and then back at his brother, “I personally would feel like that’d be a pretty decent bit of irony.”

“Somehow I disagree,” April says.

“Look, you want a drink or not? My arms are gettin’ tired.”

April returns to weighing her options, eyeing the drink tray, eyeing the four men (boys? That’s still unclear) around her, and considering the fact of how risky it’d be to lower her defenses even a little.

“Only if you drink from the one I pick first,” she says, using a tone that doesn’t leave room for negotiation.

Leonardo scoffs. “Sure, okay.”

“And… none of you are allowed to be in my personal space the whole night. I’m serious; no closer than two feet, you hear me?”

“Good by us, lady,” Michelangelo answers, nodding. “We get it, don’t worry. I swear we don’t pull that kinda shit; it’s somethin’ we’ve shot people for doing.”

April smiles without emotion. “And how many men do you think would claim that, just to get someone to trust them?”

“Men that we’d put bullets in the skull of,” Donatello says darkly, at odds with his flowery smelling drink.

April tilts her head, leaning on her palm on the armrest. “So the murderers for hire have at least a few morals, huh?” she says, still with a lie of a smile. “How anti-hero chivalrous of you.”

“Gotta have at least some,” Raphael says, shrugging. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Hm,” is April’s only reply. She turns her gaze from Raphael, looking to Leonardo and his tray of alcoholic delights. “Tell me what you got.”

Leonardo smirks and lists off the drinks he’s got. April picks a sealed bottle of beer in the end, and watches as Leonardo takes a swig of it.

“Now have Michelangelo drink some,” April orders after. She smiles with teeth. “So I can be a hundred percent sure you didn’t just take an antidote before this.”

“More for me,” says the one armed hitman, taking the bottle obediently. It’s only after eyeing both brothers for any sign of ill effects does April cautiously take a sip. She mulls the liquid around in her mouth, waiting for a burning sensation or a hint of off tasting flavor.

She gets nothing. April takes another drink of it, enjoying the warmth that slides down her throat. Leonardo makes a show of placing the tray in the middle of the floor and backing away, leaving access for all as he takes his own brightly blue martini glass.

“Trust me, princess,” Leonardo says, taking a seat on the chair Donatello already claimed for himself. The two brothers elbow each other, somehow not spilling their drinks as they do. They end up smushed into the seat meant for one, not making a move to find a bigger space. “If we wanted to kill you still, you would’a been dead by somethin’ quicker than poison. The mess of it just ain’t worth it, you know?”

“I dunno, Leo,” Donatello says coolly, swirling his drink. “A good poison has its merits. You can hide it in and on just about anything, and unlike shooting or stabbing a target, poison can be timed to kill them. I can dose someone with a toxin so deadly their heart will stop in seconds, but have them carry that in their bodies for hours afterwards, killing them long after I’ve escaped. It can be as agonizing as experiencing the hypothetical hell, or as gentle as falling asleep. Blades and lasers and the like- _they’re_ the messy methods. A good poison makes it look like a natural death. No trace, no fuss, no trail back to me.”

Donatello sips his schnapps. April’s mouth feels a bit dry.

She lowers her bottle, unwilling to keep drinking it.

“Okay true,” Michelangelo speaks up in the silence, “but just shootin’ them in the face is so much quicker?”

Donatello sighs. “My art is unappreciated.”

“Lmao shut up, dude.”

“Don’t spell texting acronyms out loud, please.”

“You people are all freaks,” April mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“And proud of it,” Leonardo says, raising his glass at her. His gaze is a little too sharp for comfort; probably still testing her like she’s been testing them.

April doesn’t rise to the challenge, just turning her head from him. She chooses instead to keep her few remaining cards close to her chest, calculative of when next she should play them.

-/-

“And that’s how my junior high project got me permanently kicked out of my fifth private school,” April says, slumped in her chair and nursing her third beer.

“That’s- brilliant,” says Donnie, because he’s great, and also kinda scary, and they both share a lot of opinions about how best to destabilize the stock market it turns out. “My method always involved cutting off the s-source of the problem at the head, but… recruiting the closest loved ones of major stock holders to kill their own family and then purposefully crash the stock market… brilliant. Perfect. Why didn’t you ever do this?”

“’cause I couldn’t get my hands on hypnotism shit when I was eleven.” April takes a swig of her beer. “Admittedly I was goin’ through a real dark time about then.”

Mikey laughs, rolling on the carpet to be on his front, looking up at her with a sunny smile. “You an’ Don would’a been _such_ good friends when we were kids, and everyone else probs would’a died. Especially ‘cause I think our dad would’ve almost liked you.”

“Thanks,” April says the same time as Donnie, and they both pause before they break down into snickers.

“God forbid either of you ever run the government,” Leo mutters drowsily.

“K-tech might as well,” April points out, giggling to herself. It’s not funny, really, but it also is. “So like, _technically_ I’m about to be in charge’a everything, dude.”

“Because corruption,” Donnie says.

“ _Yes,”_ April agrees.

“Horrifying thought right there,” Leo says, snuggling deeper into the couch and ignoring Raph’s grunt as his legs push against his brother’s side.

“’m gonna fix that shit, though,” April says empathetically, sitting up in her chair with some effort. She gets disbelieving looks. “No, I’m serious. ‘s the whole purpose- point? Um. Yeah. I’m plannin’ on fixing K-tech. Just gotta live through this an’ then get rid of all my asshole relatives…”

“You gonna kill ‘em?” Raph asks, done with his drink since a long time ago, probably, and not seeming to feel anything of it. April wishes he were fuzzy and sleepy, too. It’s lame when someone hangs back out of things…

“Mmmmm… probably not? Maybe yes?” April finishes her third beer and sets the empty bottle on the carpet with the others. “Dunno yet. Depends on which one’s I can use, and whish- which one’s are gonna be trouble. Gotta kill my auntie fer sure. Fuck, I hate her.”

“How come?” Donnie questions, a vague curiosity to his tone.

April doesn’t answer, pretending she’s too tipsy to remember to reply. Instead she stands up, ignoring the flashes of images in her head, of bright blue eyes and too wide smiles and pink nails raking her scalp in a false gesture of affection- April wobbles not from the alcohol, but from the unwanted series of memories.

“Fuckin’ hate her,” she mumbles, stepping around the drinks tray. “Gotta pee, hold on.”

April splashes her face with water in the bathroom, breathing in and out a few times to calm down. Wiping away the dampness with the hand towel, she meets her own eyes in the mirror for the second time that day.

Her vision is a bit blurry with her glasses off, their frame bright against her yellow shirt as they hang on her collar. Still, she can see the receding bruise to her cheek, the haunted fury in her eyes…

April shuts her eyes for a moment, and then opens them again. Breathes in, breathes out. The fury fades and she slides her glasses back into place, putting back on her game face. She’s not nearly as buzzed as she’s acting, but she hadn’t meant to let that last bit of information slip out, so she decides she’s had enough drinks for the night.

This isn’t like her. She doesn’t say things like that to strangers she’s known half a day. Did Donnie- no, Donatello. Did Donatello spike her drink somehow, like he bragged about being able to do?

April needs to watch herself. Using their nicknames, nearly speaking about personal issues, letting herself get comfortable and warm and _laugh and joke_ with them? This hasn’t ever happened before. She never lets herself get close with anyone, let alone four deadly strangers only sticking by her for the sake of a paycheck.

It doesn’t matter how strangely easy it is the sit and talk with them. It doesn’t matter that April has felt indescribably lonely the past weeks leading up to her birthday. They’re not her friends; she doesn’t have friends.

She can’t let even alcohol convince her otherwise.

When April returns to the group, she’s greeted with the scene of Donatello chugging a beer and his brothers chanting his name, encouraging him to drink it all. When he finishes, they all cheer, shoving his shoulder and noogieing his near-bald head.

“Oh my god,” April laughs, leaning over the back of the couch at them. “How many have you had now, exactly?”

“More than I should’ve,” Donatello admits, handing off his glass to Leonardo. He’s barely swaying, and April has to wonder what kind of tolerance that is.

“And yet you’re stadin’ upright still,” April says enviously.

“It’s ‘cause his nerves are synthetic!” Michelangelo cheers, slapping his brother’s back and laughing. “Quit cheatin’, Don. Turn it off and join us in the land of everydayness an’ normal- medi- _normocrity.”_

“That doesn’t entirely make sense, Michael,” Donatello says.

“Makes enough that ya know what I mean and that’s enough for me.”

“Do it,” Leonardo chants, Raphael joining in, “do it, do it, do it, do it-!”

“Do it!” April exclaims, getting caught up in their dynamic again.

“Fine, fine!” Donatello says, waving them all off. “God, I’m totally gonna regret this.”

“Oh but it will be _so_ funny,” Michelangelo snickers.

His brother grabs at him, and the one armed hitman dances out of the way, tripping over his own feet and ending up in the chair April had been sitting in, still snickering. Donatello motions for quiet, drawing himself up and taking a deep breath. April watches, fascinated, as he closes his eyes and concentrates for a moment.

Something none of them can see happens, and Donatello sways abruptly, teetering, and falls backwards.

He’s only saved from hitting the floor by Raphael catching him, while the other two brothers proceed to lose their shit over it. April’s sides ache a bit, cheeks a little sore from smiling. What she told herself in the bathroom is washed away by the mirth of the siblings around her.

“And that’s officially enough drinks for tonight,” Raphael states, hefting Donatello up into his arms and cradling him. Donatello mumbles something unintelligible, pushing a hand against his brother’s cheek. “No, Don. You can’t have one more sip of your fruity hell drink. Mike- actually no, you stay there. Leo gimme a cure; I gotta be the designated adult tonight apparently and take care’a y’all myself.”

“Sure, sure,” Leonardo replies, flicking a packaged syringe at his brothers. It lands on Donatello’s stomach and Raphael gives his tattooed sibling a flat look for tossing it. Leonardo just grins, moving to sit on the arm of Michelangelo’s chair and partially Michelangelo himself. They giggle at their brothers as Raphael carries Donatello off.

April sees the biggest hitman roll his eyes as he passes her, muttering that their dad would have mocked all of them if he could see Donnie now, and she has to start laughing again. She gets a leg over the back of the couch, sliding onto the cushions and flopping down. She’s warm and sleepy again, but still aware enough to keep an eye on what’s happening around her. Which honestly isn’t much; Leonardo has pulled out his phone and is doing something on it, leaning on his elbow on Michelangelo’s head, who seems perfectly fine with that.

“Wouldn’t’ve been easier to just go around?” Michelangelo questions, grinning at her.

“Where’s the fun in that?” April questions back.

“You know what? You’re right, my bad.”

They lapse into silence until Raphael comes back, just enjoying the fuzziness of inebriation. It’s been a while since April drank, since she couldn’t risk it. Not with her birthday on the horizon and her relatives breathing down her neck, just waiting for her to make an opening and let them finally get close enough to slide a dagger between her ribs, stabbed right in the back much like how Caesar was, betrayed utterly by those who should have been closest to her.

Unexpectedly, April’s eyes start to sting. She quickly and subtly rubs at them, swallowing those bitter feelings and remembering the other reason she hasn’t gone drinking lately. Too easy for something in her life to remind her of the grim facts that shaped it.

“Okay, assholes,” Raphael says gruffly when he returns. He pulls Leonardo’s phone out of his hands and nudges a drowsing Michelangelo, ignoring both of their whines. “Up. Take your cures and get some god damn sleep. We got shit to do tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. No more drinking until this is over.”

“But it’s _fun,”_ Leonardo complains. He’s hauled off the chair and his sibling by Raphael’s grip on his arm, easily pushing the tattooed brother to his feet and in the direction of his presumed room. Michelangelo takes coaxing as well, but gets up of his own power and wanders towards his own room for sleep. They both stoop to the floor and take one of the syringes with them as they do.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” April asks, realizing she never did get around to finding out her living arrangements.

Raphael runs a hand over his braided hair, letting out a tired sigh. “Uh, we got a lotta foldout beds in the couches… I just gotta remember which ones. Actually, could you do that while I go get a blanket and pillow for you?”

“Sure?” April says, and has a moment as Raphael leaves where she’s hit with the feeling of being out of her element. She’s… honestly never slept anywhere but places befitting of her trust fund and social standing. The idea of sleeping on a foldout bed in someone else’s house, wearing unfamiliar clothes while she sleeps on unfamiliar sheets…

April’s life is just full of new experiences these days. People on TV never seemed to mind terribly, so she won’t either. Probably.

It takes a couple tries, but eventually she does locate a couch that both has a foldout bed and doesn’t smell awful. By the time she’s standing in front of it and scratching her head, trying to figure out how it works, Raphael comes back with his arms full of blankets and pillows.

He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking a little. “Never slept on one’a these?”

April doesn’t answer, crossing her arms and feeling embarrassed. Raphael doesn’t comment further on her ignorance of this very ordinary part of everyday homes, just setting the linens on yet another chair nearby and tugging out the bed without any visible effort. April remembers how he’d broken down her door, and later the red light that’d been around his fists for a brief moment before they disappeared. If Leonardo can possibly teleport around, and Donatello had such drastic implants... who knows what the other two brothers are hiding still. Michelangelo’s prosthetic seemed like it was almost on fire at one point, too…

April wants to know which of them, or if all of them, invented all those things themselves. Partly because she’s been raised to spot marketing potential in anything, and partly because that is _insanely cool._ If she could at least commission a piece of custom tech for herself, that’d be enough.

“Here,” Raphael says after the blankets and pillows have been tossed on the bed. He holds out one of the sealed packets of syringes. “You can, uh, administer it yourself, right?”

April takes it warily. Her lips purse. “I’d… rather not take it at all, honestly,” she says carefully, watching the large man in front of her for reaction. “I don’t know what’s in here.”

Raphael raises his hands in peace, and takes back the packet as she hands it to him. “That’s cool. I’m not gonna pressure you to do anything you don’t wanna. See you tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah. G’night.”

“Night.”

Raphael leaves, turning off the lights of the main floor as he reaches his room. At the sound of his door shutting, April is alone in the huge space with only furniture for company and the light through the half dozen windows along the wall to see by.

She doesn’t feel scared, not exactly. Just cautious. But, she knows she’s not drunk, and she hasn’t seen any indication that the brothers are looking to hurt her. Nothing has set off any alarm bells, no inflection to their words or twitch in their movements that make her feel unsafe.

If it weren’t for the whole ‘hired killers’ thing, April might think the four brothers could be called ‘good people’. Which she never thinks of anyone, because with the circles she has to associate with… a kind smile always means someone wants something from her, or plans to take it by force.

April goes and gets her clothes and abandoned shoes from beside her chair, sliding them under the foldout bed and sitting down on it. She pulls her hair out of their pigtails and braids her coils, sighing internally about the fact that she’ll have to figure out hair and body care products tomorrow.

Curling up in the blankets, April sinks into the lingering buzz from her drinking. She runs a hand over the worn fabric of her sheets, smelling cheap but sweet laundry detergent and musty closet scents. She’s so used to silken sheets with a thread count of a hundred, so used to the impersonal and sanitized cleanliness of high society hotels and homes.

April wonders why, when she’s only ever really known those things, that lying under the many old blankets she’s been given and surrounded by pillows beaten and used into softness… she feels at ease for the first time in weeks.

Her eyes slip shut of their own accord, forgetting again that she needs to be vigilant, needs to be wary, needs to be…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't do drugs or drink kiddies


	4. (Temporary) Daily Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph wakes to the sensation of someone jumping on top of him.
> 
> It’s not a pleasant thing to wake to, but it’s definitely a familiar one.
> 
> “Good morrrrrrning,” Mikey singsongs, flopped over Raph’s back. He tugs at Raph’s braids, running them between his fingers and humming.
> 
> “Go to back to bed, Mike,” Raph grumbles into his pillow.
> 
> “Can’t, I’m up and I’m staying up,” Mikey replies. “You know how this goes. Leon got me up and I get you up and then we all go gently poke Donnie with a stick and hope he doesn’t bite any of our fingers off.”
> 
> “Or, we all go back to bed and don’t do any of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm dyin through work shifts lately and tumblr drama, so apologies for how long it takes to post these after i get home,,

Raph wakes to the sensation of someone jumping on top of him.

It’s not a pleasant thing to wake to, but it’s definitely a familiar one.

“Good morrrrrrning,” Mikey singsongs, flopped over Raph’s back. He tugs at Raph’s braids, running them between his fingers and humming.

“Go to back to bed, Mike,” Raph grumbles into his pillow.

“Can’t, I’m up and I’m staying up,” Mikey replies. “You know how this goes. Leon got me up and I get you up and then we all go gently poke Donnie with a stick and hope he doesn’t bite any of our fingers off.”

“Or, we all go back to bed and don’t do any of that.”

“Mmmmmmnope. No. Me an’ Leo are making breakfast right now, so you gotta come help set the table before we go get Don.”

Raph growls quietly, wanting to stay right where he is and catch a few more hours of sleep. They hadn’t had anything trigger their security last night, but that didn’t mean today would be smooth sailing. The calm of the evening had actually made Raph nervous, and it’d taken him an hour after lying down to fall asleep.

“Raph, Raph come _on,”_ Mikey urges, jostling Raph by wiggling. “We have a _guest_. A really, really rich guest who’s gonna make us rich, too. Put on your good undies and get your ass outta bed already.”

Right, the responsibility of making sure their client not only survived the other two thirds of seventy-two hours, but also didn’t absolutely hate them by the end of it. Leaving his brothers unattended, even with Leo possibly exercising some maturity and reigning his twin and younger brother in when they got overwhelming…

Raph sighs loudly. He has to get up.

“Gimme five,” he mumbles. Mikey says a big thank you and hugs him, sliding off the bed and skipping out of the room. He leaves the door wide open, too, because he’s a little shit with an innocent smile.

Raph convinces himself to roll over and get out of bed a few minutes later, yawning wide. He feels around with his toes on the floor, not standing up until he slides on his fluffy red monkey slippers. Shuffling out of his room, Raph has the sleepy thought to grab his housecoat, too. No need to flash the Kraang Tech heiress his underwear and sleepshirt.

To the far side of the lair, Mikey and Leo are flitting around the kitchen. Mikey is the best cook of them, and as long as he has instruction and supervision, Leo doesn’t usually set anything on fire. They’re also the morning people of the family, so. Typically, it’s them making breakfast, while Raph and Donnie do dinners. Lunch is always a coin toss who’ll take care of it.

Raph heads to the bathroom first. He spends about twenty minutes with his morning routine; take a piss, wash his face, and pull his braids back into a ponytail or something, which all takes about ten minutes or less. The other ten is dedicated to his teeth. Brush for five, floss for five. They might not be the prettiest set of chompers on the planet, but Raph won’t let them go gross and yellow or fall out before he’s at least ninety.

Satisfied with his grooming, Raph wanders out of the bathroom and looks around for everyone else. His younger brothers are still in their big kitchen, Donnie is predictably still in bed… and their client is nowhere to be seen.

Raph feels a bit concerned, because their future and paycheck rest in the hands of April O’Neil, and he’d really rather they didn’t somehow lose her. He weaves between the furniture towards her foldout couch, approaching cautiously and quietly.

He finds her there, still sound asleep. Raph is a little surprised to see her leaving herself vulnerable like this; April seems like a capable and cunning person, and yet here she is, open to attack while she sleeps. Only because of habit does Raph almost run through all the ways you can kill someone so unaware.

There’s a lot of ways. More than he feels like counting.

April shifts in her sleep, making Raph twitch and take a step back. April just turns over, picking a new pile of pillows to flop on and tugging the covers tighter around herself.

Raph stares at her for another minute, taking in how peaceful she looks. April might have smiled a number of times last night, even laughed a lot… but now that he’s seen what she looks like when her guard is truly down, he doubts there was any moment of real relaxation for her since they all met.

She looks like a real person when she’s asleep, even if Raph’s not entirely sure what he means by that. She’d been so defensive and fierce in the hotel, and then braved the whole car chase. She’d acted for the most part like what they expected her to: a privileged woman from the right side of the city, one who knew what kind of power she wields and how to use it.

And then they’d all ended up laughing and drinking together just a few hours later, easy as anything. April _is_ easy to get along with; she’s snarky and quick to quips and never once turned her nose up at their tipsy shenanigans and conversations.

Raph rubs the back of his neck uneasily, grimacing a little. Getting to like April is a dangerous concept. Her sort of people uses others however they can, eyes on their goal and only concerned with their personal agendas. Becoming comfortable and lax with a fox in their lair isn’t exactly a smart choice.

Raph leaves April to her slumber, thinking about what the day might be whiled away with, and wondering when he started referring to the heiress with her first name.

-/-

Raph is always the unfortunate sacrifice during the awakening of Donnie, unless he and Mikey talk Leo into doing it by himself and ducking for cover.

“Dooonnie,” Raph coos gently, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “C’mon, dude. Time to get up. We’ve got breakfast all done and coffee right here for you.”

Raph takes his hand away just before Donnie’s erupts from under the blankets and claws at it. They’re all wordlessly cursed at as their genius sibling stubbornly curls deeper into his tangled linens.

“It’s Italian, Dee!” Mikey enthuses in a soft voice, in charge of holding the elixir that’ll make their brother human again. “You _love_ Italian coffee. I even made a lil heart in the foam for you today.”

Raph risks lifting the edge of the blanket. Feral eyes glare out at him, dark and forbidding.

He drops the blanket again.

“And, uh- look!” Raph grabs Leo by the shoulders and decides to go with plan C, even as Leo squawks and tries to escape. “We got Leo here, too. You love Leo and wouldn’t ever maim your adopted twin, right?”

“Raph _no-!”_ Leo yelps, and is tossed onto the bed with Donnie. The almighty angry yowl that the clump of blankets makes has Raph and Mikey beating a hasty retreat, leaving the coffee on the dresser for Donnie to find after he and Leo finish tussling.

“Man,” Mikey breathes once they’re safely out of range, “Donnie sure is lively in the mornings.”

“Vicious more like,” Raph says, patting Mikey’s fluffy hair as Leo and Donnie both yell at each other inside the room. Across the main floor, another person bolts upright on her bed, looking around with a startled expression.

Mikey waves at her. “Don’t worry! This is normal! We’re all good over here.”

The look of pure incredulousness April gives them is admirably potent.

“We also got breakfast,” Raph offers.

“You- _ASSHOLES!”_ Leo bellows, charging out of Donnie’s room and tackling Raph. He thankfully doesn’t use his neuronerve, which probably would’ve bruised them both. Raph patiently holds onto Leo as his brother clutches him, snarling.

Donnie placidly comes shuffling out of his room, sipping the cup of double shot Mikey crafted for him. He looks around at them all, bleary eyed, and raises his mug. “Morning.”

“I hate _all of you,”_ Leo hisses, still clinging to Raph and digging in his nails. Raph pats his brother’s back, sympathetic and somewhat sorry for sacrificing him to Donnie’s morning monstrousness.

April gives them all a slow blink, and visibly goes through stages of rejection, frustration, and finally resignation.

“What’s for breakfast?” she says as she gets off her bed, using a tone that says she’s just ready to deal with whatever happens next, no questions asked.

Raph sympathizes with her, too.

Mikey and Leo went all out today, cooking up a spread that’s a step above most mornings. There’s a platter of chopped fruit, fluffy yellow eggs, a plate of bacon, fresh cut toast and biscuits…

Raph’s mouth waters, smelling the delicious food. Mikey does most of the stove work, leaving Leo to expertly slice and dice everything. It almost always turns out great, even on lazy days where it’s just oatmeal and some fruit.

“Wow,” April says, looking over everything with an appreciative expression. “I’ve been livin’ off takeout for a couple’a weeks now, so… this is amazing.”

“Why thank you,” Mikey preens. He takes the eggs plate and offers it to her, and April accepts without hesitation. As she shovels the eggs onto her plate, it starts everyone off on their mad grab for food as well. Donnie steals most of the bacon for himself, stabbing in warning with his fork as Mikey attempts to snitch. Leo swallows every strawberry on the fruit platter before Raph’s even bitten into his first grape. April takes big bites of eggs and bacon combined, adding a bite of toast every second forkful. For someone who’s on the petite side, she packs away plenty of the meal.

It’s only once they’re halfway done with their plates does conversation start up, the frenzied need to eat subsiding. Raph takes another serving of the biscuits, filling the empty half of his plate again, while Mikey and Leo start hashing out activities to kill time. A movie or two is on the table of possibilities, plus video games.

“How ‘bout a spar?” Donnie suggests, just finished with his second cup of coffee and looking fully human again. “I need Mikey to test his new arm.”

“Yay new arm,” Mikey says around a bite of his toast. He gulps it down quickly, saying, “I was gettin’ sick of trying to grab something and forgetting I don’t got an arm there.”

“You didn’t have an arm there for most of your life,” Leo points out. “How could you forget that?”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t fully appreciate having two arms all the time.”

Leo rolls his eyes, reaching across the table and grabbing the water pitcher to fill his glass.

“Can I spar, too?” April asks, surprising not just Raph but probably his whole family.

“Uh… you sure?” Mikey asks, leaning forwards and cocking his head.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t,” April says. She sounds serious, utterly so. They all stare at her, darting glances at each other.

“I punched you a bunch of times yesterday, though,” Mikey points out.

April scoffs. “And I punched you a bunch of times. And electrocuted you. You’re gonna do it, so why can’t I?”

Well. She’s got them with the last one. And April _is_ their boss, so what she wants… within reason, she gets.

“…Okay, yeah,” Raph allows. “You can spar with us.”

“Cool,” April says, and pops a grape into her mouth, chewing calmly like she isn’t a trillionaire to-be who just asked to playfight with a collection of hitmen who tried to kill her yesterday.

Raph stares a moment longer, and then shakes himself. Maybe he should just get used to April going against what they expect of her. This is starting to really be a trend in her behavior.

“Hey, can I ask you guys a question?” April says.

“Depends on the question,” Leo answers, pretending to be unfazed by April’s previous question. Donnie is the only one who’s actually unfazed; Leo just wishes he wasn’t, which is how their dynamic tends to go.

“What’s up with your codenames, dude?” April asks, gesturing at them all. “I’ve been thinkin’ it over, and I just don’t get it. Is it an S thing or something?”

“Not an S thing,” Leo replies.

“Then what is it?”

Leo smiles with closed lips, and doesn’t answer. No one else does, either. April raises an eyebrow at their refusal to respond. “It’s a secret, huh?” she says.

“Sorry,” Mikey says in an unapologetic tone, leaning his chin on his singular palm, “you have to be a higher-level friend to unlock our backstory.”

April rolls her eyes and goes back to eating grapes, body posture saying _fine, I don’t care. Keep your secrets._

Raph is personally finding that their client can say a lot without saying anything at all. Maybe it’s because of business politics? If they’re anything like gang politics, sizing opponents up and having subconversations within other conversations about the real objective no one will admit to having… Raph can understand why April’s body language is a separate factor to whatever she’s saying aloud.

Breakfast is finished up quickly, leaving hardly any crumbs behind. It’s almost nine in the morning now, and Raph figures it’s about time he put on some pants and faced the day.

-/-

Leo bends low, stretching his muscles slowly and breathing through the pain of his shoulder. Even alternating between hot and cold packets for most of the day, on top of painkillers and a soothing shower before gentle yoga, couldn’t mitigate the full extent of the strain.

It just irks him worse that he probably hurt his shoulder in the hotel, during the devastating seconds he thought Mikey was dead. It was pointless recklessness, which he likes to reserve for emergencies. But, putting the butt of one of their BFGs (Big Fucking Guns) to the same shoulder a short while later probably hadn’t helped either, riding out the kickback of firing it and holding himself at an awkward angle that could result in his death if he didn’t keep his body locked up…

Ugh. He should see if he can get away using one of Mikey’s upper packs. Kill the pain and send his energy skyrocketing so long as it’s on his skin.

…Of course, it might end up like that one night a few years back, but it probably wouldn’t! Leo can swear up and down that he’s much more in control of his neuronerve than he was at sixteen, as well as himself. He definitely wouldn’t end up defacing half their home before knocking himself out by running into a wall.

He finishes his bend to the floor, placing his palms flat against it and then rising tall to stretch his arms the other direction. As he does, his attention is drawn to April and Mikey in the center of the spar mat.

“I’m sorry, no human alive should be this flexible,” April says, giving Mikey a look equal parts horrified and admiring.

“You’re just jealous you can’t feed yourself scoops of peanut butter with your feet,” Mikey says smugly, leaning on his palms as he holds his position, legs arcing over his head and feet flat on the mat.

“I’m really not.”

“I think you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re just in de _niaaaal.”_

Mikey then lifts his legs from their arch and does a perfect splits in the air. April laughs, shaking her head at Leo’s little brother’s broad and charming smile.

Leo frowns. Usually, Mikey has pretty decent reads of people. They’ve all garnered people skills over the years, specifically geared towards dissecting their moods, movements, and potential reactions. Leo remains skeptical of April, and he’d expected Mikey to keep her at arm’s length, too.

Mikey is pulling out all the stops to show off for their client, so evidently that expectation was ill placed.

Leo sighs and goes back to stretching, repeating his previous stretch a few more times and then moving onto limbering up his legs.

“Okay everyone,” Donnie says once they’re all ready to go. He’s got his favorite equipment out, the best sensors and cameras he owns as well as what Leo assumes is his best laptop. Donnie’s worn one of his backless shirts, hooking himself up to all his gear and multitasking with all the projected screens he’s got stemming from his computer. “The goal here is to _not_ fuck up the prototype I’m hesitantly and grudgingly putting in the field. Mikey, if you break this one, I hope you know. I will break you in retribution.”

“No you won’t,” Mikey says, rotating his brand new arm and beaming like sunshine.

Donnie sighs loudly. “No, I won’t really. But I’ll be real fuckin’ pissed either way.”

“We won’t break it,” Raph promises, and with the sweetly sincere smile he gives Donnie, anyone who didn’t know about his track record of accidents would trust him completely.

Sometimes Leo swears his eldest and youngest sibling are actually blood related. Whereas Leo and Donnie both have to actively work at being charming, Mikey and Raph act so genuine about their feelings all the time you never notice until it’s too late and they’ve already yanked the rug out from under your feet.

Also, their puppydog begging eyes were always frustratingly more effective than Leo’s, and for the sake of his childhood self he will never let that injustice go.

“Alright, you can both begin in three… two…” Donnie motions sharply with his hand and exclaims, _“Start!”_

Mikey whoops and attacks Raph, swinging his prosthetic arm at their big brother. Raph’s conduit studded arms flare red light and catch the blow, the Armor spreading across the rest of his body as Mikey bounces back and tries a new angle.

Mikey has speed on Raph. Even if Raph can move surprisingly fast for someone his size, he’s never been able to keep up with the springy energy Mikey cultivates. Their littlest brother might not have had two arms until he was almost fifteen, but that never made him any less formidable. Now, with both his arms once again, Mikey jumps and darts and dodges around Raph, light on his feet and landing rapid fast punches whenever he gets close. Raph’s Armor takes it no problem, casting a red glow over his sharp toothed grin as he and Mikey parry each other’s attacks.

Leo only looks away from his observation of the spar because someone jabs him in the back. He turns to look behind himself and meets April’s glasses framed gaze.

“…What?” he says reluctantly.

“You seem not busy,” April states, moving closer to sit next to Leo near the mat. “Think you’d explain to me what’s happening here?”

“They’re sparring,” Leo says, resisting the urge to say _duh._

“Well duh, but I mean-” April points at Raph’s glowing form, “-what’s happening with _that?_ I’ve seen a lot of weird tech pass through a lotta channels in K-tech, and I’ve never seen hardlight adapted like this.”

“You just said it yourself; it’s just hardlight adapted in a weird way.”

“Okay, I don’t know how to explain this to you, but there is no _just_ about him having a sustainable and stable hardlight armor. One without a _battery_ , too.”

“The battery is his own bioelectricity,” Donnie speaks up, drawing both of their attention to him. His eyes remain on his devices, hands jittering between each as he records data.

“That sounds incredibly dangerous,” April says in a fascinated tone. “Also highly likely to cause a heart attack when he overloads.”

“He won’t overload,” Donnie says curtly.

“And why _not?”_ April questions.

“Because.”

“Because _why?”_

Donnie stops what he’s doing for a split second, looking down his nose at them both from his chair. “Because they were designed for safe use, even during extended periods of time. And I won’t tell you why or how that works.”

“So _you_ invented them and won’t share the specs,” April concludes.

“No. I didn’t invent them.” Donnie starts his rapid typing again, visibly closing himself off from them. The only other thing they get out of him is, “We stole the base designs for a lot of things I’ve built from someone who didn’t deserve their own intellect. Be grateful we did, and took care of him afterwards.”

Leo agrees with Donnie. What happened in the past and resulted in them getting the designs for Raph’s conduits, some of Mikey’s prosthetic features, and… the neuronerve. They all came from someone who deserved what he got. Someone none of them feel like lingering on.

Draxum can stay in the past where he belongs.

April disagrees strongly, however, expressed by her despairing groan. “You guys are so damn secretive and _lame,_ god. You have all this cool shit and you won’t share it, no fair.”

Leo turns a scowl on her, saying, “Maybe ‘cause we know what you’d do with them if we did.”

“And what’s that?” April says, playful disappointment evaporating. Her expressions shutters into the one she’d worn back in the hotel; guarded and calculating. Leo resists the urge to spread his tattoos across his skin and give her an eyeful of their effects.

“In case you forgot, you’re _K-tech,”_ Leo says waspishly. “Anyone who works for them- let alone is going to take _control_ of the whole operation- can’t be trusted with anything. All you’ll do is take the inventions my brother made _specifically and only_ for our family and turn them into mass produced weapons. Someone like you will just put deadlier guns in the hands of cops and military and turn a blind eye while they mow down innocent people in the streets, sitting up in your- your gilded fucking castles and counting your earnings, while real people _die_ because of how you misused what we gave you!”

Leo stops, blood rushing in his ears. The room has gone quiet, his brothers stopping what they were doing in order to stare in horror at Leo.

…Right. April isn’t someone he should ever, ever yell at. Because it could royally fuck over their chance at being paid what they’ve been promised at best, and at worst could get them _taken care of_ once she’s in power-

‘’Ex _cuse me?!”_ April abruptly shouts, surging into Leo’s space and baring her teeth. “That’s mighty fucking presumptuous of you, _Leonardo._ You don’t know a god damn thing about me, let alone what I’d do if I got a hold of your guys’ tech. You seem to be trying to find a money hungry, power abusing _bitch_ in me, and I’m sorry to inform you that I am only one of those things.” She leans in even closer, eyes blazing. “And lemme tell you, it’s not the money or power options, you overreacting _jackass!_ It doesn’t matter what your problem is with me, you _do not_ get to berate me like that over shit I haven’t even _done,_ or I will, and I mean it, I _will_ make you regret doing so!”

She sits back, lips in a tight, angry scowl. Leo stares at her, caught off-guard by the comeback and its fury.

“…Are we, uh,” Mikey says in the stunned silence, “you know, fired or somethin’?”

“Please don’t fire us over him,” Donnie says quickly, shooting Leo a glare he can feel. “He definitely doesn’t speak for the rest of us.”

Leo wants to turn around and give his twin an incredulous look for that comment, because it’s not _Leo_ who’ll go off on tangents about the level of nigh irreparable corruption to the federal government, all connecting to the richest mega corporations that have strangleholds on politicians across the country.

April scowls another long moment, and then slowly settles her furious posture. “…No. None of you are fired.” She levels a look at Leo, somehow calm again so quickly after her outburst- or, at least seeming like she is. “I just. I won’t put up with that kind of thing. I know I’m not… I know what you think I should act like, but I’m not like that. The last thing I want is for Kraang Tech to poison the world worse than it already has, and I swear, one of the very first things I’ll be doing is abolishing our weapons development department.”

“Really?” Raph asks, and when Leo glances to his brother, he sees a cautious hope in Raph’s expression.

April nods jerkily, eyes set. “I’m going to change everything about the company. Raise wages, increase benefits, terminate departments that are only contributing to our society’s violent dogma- everything. I’m going to change _everything.”_

It could be all lies. It could just be lip service, getting them more firmly on her side of things. April was _raised_ to be a lying, conniving, greedy person. By all means, beyond their bodyguard and client contract, there shouldn’t be any trust deeper than assuring they all get out of this alive.

Leo hates that his gut is telling him every single word to just come out of April’s mouth was true. It conflicts with his need to place all his resentment at the upper society’s wrongdoings on her.

He looks away from April’s determined expression. He doesn’t know what to feel about her anymore.

Donnie is the one who gets them back on track, unsubtly reminding Raph and Mikey they should be helping him figure out what of Mikey’s new arm needs to be improved upon, not standing around and staring. They resume the spar, taking a few moments to return to the invigorated joy of trading blows and lighthearted trash talk.

Eventually, Donnie proclaims he has enough data, and gets a pitifully whining Mikey to let him remove the prosthetic. Leo stands up and walks onto the mat as Mikey makes a high-pitched squeak of pain, loosening his muscles again and centering himself. He turns and looks at the other person who’s been sitting on the sides this whole time.

“Would you… like to spar?” he offers to April, tentative.

She looks at him for a few seconds, considering Leo in a way that’s tangibly felt- why does someone inches smaller than him have so much presence- before she stands and walks onto the mat, barefoot like Leo.

“Hand to hand, or do we get weapons?” April asks, rolling her shoulders.

Leo smiles, bemused at the gutso. “Hand to hand, don’t wanna go too hard, you know?” Also, he doesn’t feel like beating her up, so. He’ll take it easy for the sake of their client and his shoulder both; two birds with one stone.

“Aight, man. You said so.”

“Oh, by the way, before we start.” Leo gives April an apologetic smile as they meet in the middle of the mat. “I’m sorry for just… going off at you like that. That wasn’t really okay of me.”

“Thank you for the apology,” April says, smiling back. “I’m sorry for yelling in your face and calling you a jackass.”

“I, ha, might’ve deserved that one a lil.”

“I was kinda a bitch in return, so. Friends?”

Friends?

…That’s weird to think about, but then again. Leo’s life has always had strange things happen in it. Why not making friends with his billionaire unwillingly capitalist princess client?

April is holding her hand out, waiting for him to shake it. Leo extends his hand to do so, clasping April’s petite palm with his slender one.

“You were kinda bitchy,” Leo teases.

April grins with teeth, and then yanks him forwards to clock him across the face with a punch.

Leo splutters in pain and surprise, and gets a knee to the gut for his hesitation. He stumbles backwards, away from April, trying to breathe again and refocus his vision. He sucks in a deep breath and blinks away the sparks just in time to see April charge at him with a scream and throw her whole weight at him.

Leo finds himself on the mat, flat on his back, air gusting out of his lungs as he takes the impact of one April O’Neil executing a full body slam upon him.

What.

“You gotta be a higher-level friend to call me a bitch, _bitch,”_ April gloats, elbows stabbing into Leo’s ribcage and a cat’s grin on her face.

Leo wheezes.

“See? _SEE?!”_ Mikey yells from the sidelines. “I’m not shitty at my job- she’s just crazy! A crazy rich back alley brawler!”

“I’ve actually brawled in a few alleys,” April says, rolling off Leo’s abused front and standing up. “So, I guess that’s a kinda correct statement?”

“Girl, you are _crazy_. I cannot stress that enough here, ‘cause these assholes didn’t believe me.”

“That… wasn’t fair,” Leo protests, sitting up and wincing. “I wasn’t ready, you _tricked me.”_

“Oh, honey,” April coos, cocking her hip and putting a hand on it. “I dunno how to tell you this, but _life_ constantly tricks you when you’re not ready. Buck up and gimme a payback punch already.”

Well. That’s something Leo can definitely do.

He finds himself grinning widely afterwards, sweaty and bruised. April isn’t up to the level of people who’ve trained specifically to deal out often lethal damage, but she sure packs a literal punch when it comes down to things. Raph tuts at both of them for fighting bareknuckle and reckless, forcing them to sit on a couch and tape cold packs around their hands and stick them to their faces.

Leo refrained from using his neuronerve during the sparring, and thus only feels a slightly aggravated throb to his shoulder for it. April’s bruise from Mikey’s punches has resurfaced again as well, and yet she’s grinning ear to ear like Leo is, laughing easily and brightly.

Part of Leo wants to hang back still, maintain his suspicions and biases and justified anger. And yet…

“So… when you were on about cops and military and guns K-tech puts in their hands,” April says quietly, while everyone else is busy and can’t overhear. “That sounded kinda personal. Do you mind me asking… why?”

Leo is silent for a moment, mulling over replying.

The part of him that wants to keep a wall between them says to shut down the conversation at that. But…

“Where we grew up, everyone has a friend or a family member who’s been killed by law enforcement,” he says, surprising himself with the honest answer. It just flows out, drawn free by April’s gentle question. “It’s not just K-tech, but… your family’s company is one of the biggest contributors to the violence. If it’s not a black-market arms deal, it’s a contract with local gangs to shut up specific people, or it’s them crushing a small business, or them just straight up putting the latest guns into the hands of cops and sitting back to watch the fireworks as another protest against their slave labor wages is broken up. I… I know people, close people, who lost loved ones because of that.”

“I’m sorry,” April says softly, and Leo thinks she really means that. He looks at her, red glasses frames and dark eyes and a messy braid curled around the side of her neck.

It feels… strange, to get an apology. Kraang Tech never so much as acknowledges the damage it does. April represents that cold-hearted company, is about to become its CEO, and having her say a simple, sincere _I’m sorry_ …

It’s not enough to fix the lives K-tech has ruined, but.

It’s more than they’ve ever gotten.

It’s a start.

“Thank you,” Leo whispers, unsteady for reasons he can’t dare explain.

April smiles, sad and warm, and Leo wonders how the monsters of the Kraang family ever could have created someone like her.

-/-

Mikey, after the sparring sessions and a lazily picked movie, spends a bunch of time playing video games with Leo, April, and Raph while Donnie tinkers with the fine tuning of Mikey’s new arm.

To make it fair, since he can’t hold both sides of the console, they have to play in pairs.

“Left, _LEFT!”_ Mikey yells, regretting giving Leo the side of the controller that has the steering.

“I _am!”_ Leo yells back, swerving them away from the edge of the canyon just in time. Just in time, that is, for them to get blue shelled from behind.

“ _NOOO!”_ they both scream. Raph and April laugh maniacally as they send King Boo to his death and take the lead as Princess Peach.

“ _Suck it!”_ exclaims April gleefully, Raph cackling as he powers on the gas for their character’s car and April expertly steers Peach through the next obstacles.

“How are they beating us, we’ve done this since we were little!” Leo despairs as they get back into the race.

“When you have no friends,” April says as she and Raph near the finish line, “you get a lotta solo practice time.” As Peach claims victory on screen, Raph and April whoop and drop their console, high-fiving and doing a celebratory shimmy of their shoulders. Mikey drops his half of the console and groans dramatically, letting his head hit the back couch cushions.

“Uuuuuuugh you’re both too old to be beating kids at games,” Mikey complains. “Go do taxes or something.”

“Sorry, dude,” Raph says. “We’re still young enough to kick your asses.” He reaches over April’s head and ruffles Mikey’s hair, making him hiss and duck, denying his nasty terrible awful big brother the right to muss his hair.

“Y’all are sore losers,” April jeers.

“You’re a sore _winner,”_ Leo fires back.

Mikey ignores both of them half-glaring at each other, figuring they’ve decided their dynamic should have a tinge of rivalry still, even after they should’ve gotten that all out of their systems by taking turns beating each other up. Mikey privately sticks out his tongue, annoyed with all of them.

“Round thirteen anyone?” Raph asks, waving his and April’s console.

Leo has theirs ready immediately, eyes shining with renewed determination to avenge their gaming honor. Mikey figures heck, why not? Maybe the unlucky number thirteen will be their lucky number.

Somewhere between Mikey and Leo winning as King Boo and laughing at April and Raph’s disgraced Princess Peach, Donnie comes out of his lab and leans against the back of the couch. Observing their racing and holding what Mikey guesses is his newly finished replacement arm.

Soon as the scoreboard starts across the screen, Mikey hops off the couch and dutifully follows Donnie back into the lab, excited to get his new gear. The last one had been pretty sweet, and he’d barely managed to use its awesome abilities. He can’t wait to see what Donnie has packed into this new design.

“Ready?” Donnie asks when the arm is ready to be hooked in all the way. Mikey nods and grits his teeth, ready for the split-second agonizing burn of his nerves coming online, but still unable to resist yelping between his clenched jaws.

“How’s it feel now?” Donnie asks, watching Mikey flex and wriggle his fingers. Mikey can feel the difference in the model all over again, lightweight but still solid; gleaming new and connecting with his comm implants to give him access to all its features. He hadn’t been given that access during the test run earlier; this is like getting to unwrap the same gift twice and have it be even _better_ the second time around.

“Ooooooh,” Mikey says, finding one that makes him grin. “That’s some literally hot shit, Dee. I can’t wait to take her for a spin.”

“Do _not_ break her this time,” Donnie says flatly, looking tired and wary. “We’re in the middle of a situation a lot more serious than usual; you can’t let someone fuck this baby up when we’re in the thick of it, ‘cause I doubt we’d get a moment of not being shot at for me to fix it.

“I’ll treasure her, no worries,” Mikey promises, turning the shiny prosthetic this way and that, admiring the sleek likeness to his organic arm, the replacement for the mirror twin he lost way long ago. Activating the synthetic human skin it projects, Mikey can’t help but grin even wider.

“You gave me the freckles I wanted!” he says happily, laughing at the small constellation of freckles he doesn’t have anywhere else on his body. Mikey likes his vitiligo plenty, enjoying the inspiration he draws from it for his art and all the styles he can use to showcase its beauty, but _freckles._ He loves seeing the patterns on people’s skin, tiny works of art that no one appreciates properly.

“Glad you like ‘em,” Donnie says with a small pleased smile.

“You didn’t have to, but aw, Don, come’ere. Thank you _so much_ for doin’ this when I know you already got a lotta stuff to take care of.”

Donnie takes the hug without fuss for once, not even huffing in feigned distaste. Mikey gives his big brother an extra tight squeeze for that.

“And with that,” Donnie says when they part, running his hand over his cropped hair and sighing, “I have gotten caught up on all our totally necessary necessities. Now I just gotta take care of the accessory necessities.”

“Your value system is fascinating,” Mikey says sincerely.

“Thanks. Yours is certainly interesting, too.”

“I’ll have you know that filing my outfits by thread count, color coordination, and deadly effectiveness is a totes valid system.”

“And it looks like absolute chaos to everyone else. I dunno how you find anything.”

“Easily and quickly. You guys not bein’ able to snitch from my closet is just a bonus.”

Donnie rolls his eyes and gives Mikey a shove, sending his wheelie chair rolling across the floor. Mikey just chortles in good humor and hops off it, stretching his new arm above his head and letting out a content sigh. It’s a big relief to be at a hundred percent again, ignoring the bruises still healing on his face and the itchy soreness where he got electrocuted. He doesn’t _need_ his prosthetic, really, but. He’d been trained to fight with both one or two arms, thanks to their dad shifting his training methods so Mikey could participate, too…

Having that trick up his sleeve, his adaptability in using his body’s limitations to their full advantage- it was comforting. He has their dad to thank for that. It boosts his confidence, even when things are coming down to the wire.

Thinking fondly of their pops as Mikey flexes his prosthetic, he has a moment where he smiles goofily to himself. Sometimes, he really does miss their dad.

He and Donnie chat as they leave the lab, insisting to his brother that _yes,_ if he’s going to keep working on his projects, he has to stop and eat something first. Donnie totally skipped out on the lunch they’d had earlier, between finishing a movie and starting Mario Kart, and though dinner is relatively soon, he still needs a snack.

Leo and Raph have abandoned the game station, the TV screen dark. Mikey’s other two brothers are goofing around on the spar mats, tossing playful insults as they toss each other around (really, it’s only Raph who’s doing the physical tossing, while Leo runs his mouth enough for the both of them). April is standing apart from them, head down and busy doing something on a phone Mikey didn’t know she had.

Donnie abruptly makes a shrilly sharp noise of fear, caught in his throat as he inhales. Mikey’s hair practically stands on end- Donnie _never_ makes that kind of sound- and can’t ask his brother what’s wrong before Donnie is bolting across the room, fast enough April can’t react in time either, and only manages to gape in offense as Donnie snatches her phone and smashes it against the floor.

April is frozen in shock for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing. What breaks her from the stupor is Donnie bringing his bare foot down on the phone, again and again, shattering the thing beyond repair.

“Wh- what the _FUCK!?”_ April screeches at him, shock warping into justified fury. Donnie ignores her and everyone else’s exclamations of confusion, rushing over to the weapons rack, retrieving something from his section, and turning around with a dark look on his face as he heads back towards the destroyed phone.

April takes a _big_ step back as Donnie pulls the trigger of his flamethrower.

“ _Donnie!”_ Raph yells as the floor catches fire. Leo swears and runs for the fire extinguisher. Mikey is stuck staring as Donnie incinerates April’s increasingly unrecognizable mobile device.

As Leo charges in with the extinguisher, Raph’s Armor encases his whole body and he dives at Donnie, wresting the flamethrower out of their brother’s hands and catching him as he stumbles. Leo pulls the pin and lets a stream of white smother the small fire, mixing horribly with the smoke that’s started to cloud the air.

“Donnie- Don- _stop,”_ Raph says, struggling to hold their thrashing sibling. He loses his grip as Donnie ducks down and darts away, marching straight up to April with blazing eyes.

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?!” Donnie demands in a shout. He gestures sharply at the still smoking remains on the floor. “Why do you still have that? What could _possibly_ possess you to think it’s okay to have your fucking _cell phone_ still, let alone _use it?”_

“I-” April starts, and then puffs up from her slight shrink from Donnie’s anger. “It’s my damn phone! You don’t have any say if I have it or not!”

“I sure fucking do when it puts _all of us in danger!”_

“If you think I’d be stupid enough to let someone track my phone, you’re _wrong._ That _was_ a phone I had specially designed for my use only, with virus and surveillance protection on level with the fucking _pentagon.”_

“And how do you know that for sure?”

“How do you know for sure it’s _not_ secure?”

“Because _nothing I didn’t make_ is ever secure!”

“Wait,” Raph says, breaking in and stepping towards the two of them, “let’s just- calm down, talk about this. Donnie, what’re you trying to say here?”

“I’m saying she could have just set off a radio wave _fireworks show_ and signed our fucking death certificates!” Donnie whirls, looking hunted and furious. “Unless we leave before anyone tracks the signal and finds us, we’re dead, we are _dead-”_

Leo jumps to be in front of Donnie, too fast for anyone to see and definitely too fast for Donnie to evade him. “Don, dude, hold on,” Leo says, a forced calm to his tone as he holds Donnie by the shoulders. “Let’s just stop and think for a sec, a tiny, tiny baby sec. Maybe they didn’t get a read on April’s phone, she was only usin’ it for like, a minute, max. Probably less.”

“You don’t _get it,”_ Donnie says, and Mikey _hates_ the crack that nearly enters his brother’s voice. He’s scared. Donnie is never scared. “They’ll have been looking for us this entire time- they’ll have been looking for _her._ Her phone- it’s a liability. They could have hacked it, gotten a tracer on its signature, how _else_ could they have gotten her location to give it to us to find her and _kill her-”_

“Donnie,” Leo tries again. Donnie just pushes his twin away, standing with shaking fists. He turns slowly, slightly less overwhelming anger in his eyes than before as he looks at April.

“What… was so important,” Donnie asks slowly, “that you didn’t stop and think for a moment that bringing what amounts to a tracking device with you, _might_ be a bad idea?”

April’s expression is stubborn, unyielding in the face of Donnie’s accusations. “I didn’t know if I could trust any of you,” she says, voice steady. “I set a timed release of your personal files; emails to every news station in the city. As insurance, in case you decided to double-cross me and just finish the job.”

“You _what?”_ Mikey says, words flying out of him and a sharp stab of betrayal hitting his chest. He doesn’t know why that hurts to hear; he just thought they’d been getting along so well, and now April’s hung a huge threat over their heads. A threat not just to him and his brothers, but the rest of their family, too.

“But- that’s why I was using my phone just now!” April says quickly. “I was deleting it entirely before they sent. You guys- I’d decided I could trust you without blackmail. And just so you know, I commissioned the phone from a small out of country company, it’s the only of its kind and I check it for bugs almost daily- so it’s safe. We’re still safe.”

“None of us are safe,” Donnie says, voice low. “As long as K-tech wants you dead… not a single one of us is safe.”

April holds his stare for a long moment, and then ducks her head, clenching her fists.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she really does sound like she means it. “But… I knew what I was doing. I don’t make stupid decisions, Donnie. It was a calculated risk.”

“That’s still a risk,” Donnie says bitterly. “There’s still a chance they might have managed to lock onto your signal and find us here.”

“They _can’t._ It’s an untraceable phone. My bodyguard herself cleared it for use, and she’s even more paranoid than you.”

“And what if it’s _not_ untraceable? What’ll you say if it doesn’t work how it should? They’re desperate, April. K-tech isn’t going to stop until you take control of it or end up six feet under and you know it. Who’s to say they didn’t track down the company you commissioned and stole the blueprints to your extremely unique, one of a kind phone?”

April doesn’t answer for a beat, and then says slowly, “Because the creator swore he’d die before he let K-tech get their hands on anything he’s done for me. I trust him to keep the secret safe. I trust _you_ to keep _me_ safe. So can you just- just trust _me_ that my phone wasn’t going to get us caught?”

Mikey fidgets in the following silence, wavering on how to feel. On the one hand, it stings that April, like every other bureaucratic asshole, felt the need to slip blackmail into the deal as a precaution. A protective clause to their own wellbeing and Mikey and his brothers’ downfall ensured. But on the other hand…

“You really trust us?” he asks, breaking the uneasy silence that’s fallen. All eyes turn to him, including April’s, which have far more depth to them now, rather than the coldly determined stare of the woman back in that hotel.

“…Yeah,” she replies, almost soft in tone. “I… I didn’t expect to, but I do. I trust you all to do your job well, and… I trust that you won’t turn on me.”

Mikey can hear a weight to the last words said. He considers the life April has led up to this point, how she had to look for potential enemies in every potential friend. He wonders just how many people April has said _I trust you_ to.

His bet is on not many.

“Well,” Mikey says, walking carefully over to her and giving a cautious smile, “I trust you to not turn on us, either.”

He holds out his hand to April. After a brief moment, she takes it, and Mikey’s organic arm feels the warmth of her palm against his. April smiles gratefully.

Mikey… decides properly and truly that he likes April. He does trust her. He thinks she’s smart and funny and feisty as anything. And, she’s cunning about her choices. If April really believes that her phone wasn’t going to compromise their location, then Mikey believes, too.

Mikey turns, looking to Donnie. He tries to convey all those thoughts with a glance, and probably because he really is a genius, Donnie’s face fills with a grudging understanding, before going blank of emotion.

“…Alright. I guess I, maybe, trust you that your phone was secure. And… I’m sorry I reacted like that,” Donnie concedes reluctantly, folding his arms. “I just. If there’s even a slightest chance they’ll find us... My- my brothers and me. I can’t, I don’t want to lose…”

Donnie stops talking, brief emotional response squirreled away again, back into that great big heart he hates to let anyone know he has. Leo puts an arm around Donnie’s shoulders, hugging his twin close.

“It’ll be okay,” Leo promises, voice firm. “Nothing horrible’s happened, and we don’t even know if it will. We got plenty of options here for what we do next.”

Donnie nods tensely, eyes downcast and mouth in a frown. Leo hugs him tighter.

“…Leo’s right,” Raph says. He draws himself up, taking control of the situation. “Okay, here’s the plan. We ditch and get a new location, just to be on the safe side, whether anyone knows where we are or not. We grab the bare essentials and get our asses out of here in the next fifteen. If they have eyes on us, they don’t know we know about it. So let’s use that and get moving.”

Mikey doesn’t stop to acknowledge the orders, darting towards the weapons racks as his brothers all separate from the group as well. He starts snatching up their main gear choices, taking body armor and favored guns to the table and laying them out, ready for the others to suit up. He goes back for the close combat gear, grabbing belts and their upgraded starter weapons. The weapons they’d originally trained to use, from Leo’s swords to Raph’s tonfa. All of them in easy carry collapsed rectangles and cylinders, excluding Mikey’s kusari-fundo with its ball at the top.

The only other things he stops to grab is his mask and flexible but sturdy work boots. A brief stop in his bedroom to change into job clothes, ditching the comfy at home sweats he’d been in. Returning to the main room, he drops his brightly orange mask on the table while he hikes his socks and boots on, tying their laces tight and anticipating not taking them off for the remainder of the evening, possibly the whole night.

The others are coming back now, having similarly donned their work clothes and dropping grab-and-go duffles and packs on the table. Donnie shoves a holster with fuel vials strapped to it into Mikey’s hands, not stopping to remind Mikey what they’re for. He doesn’t need to. Mikey knows perfectly well how much he’s going to probably need them in the next forty-eight hours.

“What should I do?” April is asking, trying to both stay out of the way and get into the middle of things, eyes darting between them all.

“Put this on under your jacket,” Raph says, tossing a chest plate to April. It’s one of Mikey’s, roughly the right size for her. April starts to shrug off her tracksuit jacket, a different one from the first, since she swapped the other outfit for a golden zip-up hoodie and black sweats. Mikey goes for his own armor, sliding it over his shirt and grabbing his elbow pads next, reaching for a coat to hide them all.

“Wait, _wait.”_ They all freeze at Donnie’s tone, watching as he twitches and looks at something only he can see, before he’s tapping his wrist computer and bringing up light purple hardlight holoscreens, tapping rapidly and looking increasingly panicked. “Oh- oh _shit,_ something’s in my systems, it’s trying to tear down the defenses. I- I think-”

“What the fuck is that?” Leo asks sharply, pointing at something behind them. They all whip around, looking out the windows on the far side of the main floor.

Three drones hovering there drop out their weapons, taking aim with bright pink light.

_“Get DOWN!”_ Raph bellows, and cloaks himself in his Armor, covering them bodily as the drones fire. Mikey feels the explosion, world shuddering and ears ringing as everything falls apart around him for a handful of petrifying seconds.

Then, his training kicks in and he regains his bearings. He moves in sync with his brothers, plus April as she keeps up, and they grab what they can off the table and make for the stairs down to the garage- Donnie activating their security defenses as the drones fly in through the massive hole they’ve made in their home. Blast shields shutter down over the windows still intact, as well as the door they slam shut behind their retreat.

“April- you said your phone couldn’t be tracked,” Leo says as they run, skipping forwards a whole flight ahead of them and talking rapidly. “But they _know,_ why do they know?!”

“I have no idea!” April exclaims, jumping the last three steps of a flight and sprinting down the next. “It wasn’t- hff- possible to hack it, I don’t know what’s happening!”

“Less talking more running!” Raph orders. Mikey feels a ragged sort of fear clinging to his insides as he does so, a violation of his life settling in his chest and pushing everything out of place.

No one is supposed to ever find their home. The lair isn’t supposed to be yet another place he has to watch their backs constantly- it’s their hiding spot, their secret bolthole, a place where he should be able to sit and not worry at all, feel safe and relaxed. It’s not supposed to be a target, too.

The wrongness of his home being destroyed follows Mikey all the way down. They all skid out into the garage, rushing for the Tank. Mikey is almost to his side of the car when Leo grabs the back of his shirt and says, “Shit, shit- hold on, guys we gotta timeout here.”

“Leo, this isn’t the time!” Donnie snaps, trying to shove past and get in the driver’s seat. Leo shoves him right back, holding up his palm.

“Guys, they’re waiting for us outside,” Leo says, darting a glance at the thick doors to the garage. No one seems to be trying to breach them. Yet.

“No _duh,”_ April says, a tad panicky.

“More specifically they’re waiting for _you,”_ Leo continues, ignoring her and everyone’s frustrated looks. “Just- listen to me. We can’t just charge out and expect to get away all together. We gotta take a different route here.”

“You can give us directions suggestions, _while I’m driving,”_ Donnie says, glaring at Leo hard enough Mikey winces down behind their brother.

“I’m not talking about literal routes!” Leo snaps back. “Well, okay, it’s partially literal routes.”

“Just explain already so we can _go,”_ Raph says tensely.

“I’m trying!” Leo says. He grabs Mikey by the shoulder, pulling Mikey to stand next to him. “Listen, I got an idea, an’ I think it’s the way that’s gonna minimize how much _you guys,_ at least, get shot at.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi if tumblr goes and nukes me for my lesbianism on sideblog and xeno tastes in general, [hmu here on twitter](https://twitter.com/cordialspectrum) so i can announce what's happened to me + kinda keep doing stuff like i have been.


	5. Paint The Town Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If it wasn’t your phone…” Donnie says slowly, and April catches him darting a wary, but apologetic look in the mirror at her. She gives him a wane smile, accepting his apology a second time. He blinks, an imperceptible gratitude for the forgiveness as he continues with, “Then, by reason… that means someone’s sold us out.”
> 
> “A traitor,” April says gravely.
> 
> “Yep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to say this in the last chapter notes, but the guy april bought her custom cellphone from is implied to be harold from the idw comics. smart guy, hella reclusive, kinda an asshole. the sorta person you wanna have around in a futuristic dystopia.
> 
> also this chapter gets kinda dark towards the last pov, just a warning.

“Sir- we have visual of the targets!”

Commander Thurman turns towards the Officer who’s spoken, marching to the monitor he’s sat in front of. Other members of the techie squad are announcing their own visual of the targets, now; chatter picking up as the five rats holed up in their nest flee for it.

“Three in the car, two on a bike,” says Officer Gordski, indicating the separate boxes of footage. “The car is driving straight towards the blockade, but the bike-”

“I don’t care about their directions,” Thurman snaps, “I want to know who’s _where._ We can take out the other four later, but we can’t lose the package!”

“S-sir! Yes, uh- the package has been spotted in the backseat of the car, sir,” reports Gordski. He taps on the monitor, blowing up the video and zooming in on the dark ponytail of a passenger. Ms. O’Neil’s unmistakable face is easily visible.

“But why would they be driving right towards the barricade, though-?” Thurman starts to wonder to himself, then his eyes go wide as Ms. O’Neil’s features warp and becomes a panicked young man’s instead- obviously one of the hitmen protecting Ms. O’Neil. He hits his wrist a few times, and then he becomes their main target again as light shimmers over his body, masking it once more.

_“Show me the bike,”_ Thurman orders, and the feed of the bike’s escape in the opposite direction is pulled up. There are two figures riding it; one in a blue jacket, hunched over the handlebars, and the other in a golden-yellow coat, head down and features hidden.

“Sir?” asks Gordski.

“The sons of bitches are tryin’ a’ pull a fast on us,” Thurman says, sneering. He puts a finger to his comm, tapping it once to activate the open channel. “I want all units to change positions _immediately._ The package is headed eastbound on a motorbike; they’re trying to fool us into thinking she’s in the car, but they screwed up. We’ve got ‘em now.”

“The package is eastbound, I repeat, the package is eastbound along 88th and 123rd,” Gordski says, relaying the new directions to lower level members of the strike team. “Mode of transportation is a custom model motorcycle, black paint job, no plates. There is only one hostile with her; proceed with caution. Deploy lethal force- do not let them escape, I repeat, _do not let them escape._ ”

-/-

“Headed eastbound- targets are in sight,” Officer Terrance reports, eyes locked on the motorcycle weaving through traffic. His partner presses down on the accelerator, bringing them closer to shooting range of the bike. Other members of the strike force are catching up as well, but from the vicious look on Officer Deligar’s face as she drives, she’s not going to let any of them take the glory.

Terrance gets his gun ready, feeling the heat of its energy cartridge against his skin. They’re not more than a few meters away now, closing in to ram the bike and send its two riders flying. Deligar has a mean glint in her eyes as she moves closer and closer, shrinking the distance down to barely two meters-

The hooded passenger starts shifting around. She brings her legs up from clutching the sides of the bike, yellow hoodie flapping in the wind as she coils up on the seat, and then-

She leaps upwards, off the bike.

Terrance watches in what feels like slow motion as Ms. O’Neil arcs through the air in a flip. Twisting her body, hood flying backwards off her head-

Deligar and Terrance both curse as their target hits the hood of their car, one of her fists going straight through the windshield and spraying glass everywhere. Terrance has a split second to look into the eyes of who they thought was the package, and sees only a blank, eyeless orange mask. It only covers half their face, exposing their giddy expression.

The hitman crouching on their car grins with too many teeth.

He laughs loud enough that it’s heard over the howling wind, opens his clenched fist through the broken glass, and everything explodes into burning heat.

-/-

“I can’t believe this is working,” April says, amazed that every single car that should have been blocking their path has gone right past them.

“One of the best evolutionary tricks in history,” says Donnie from the driver’s seat, “has been fooling predators into thinking you’re someone else. A plant, another animal- whatever. It wouldn’t’ve been used so many times by so many species if it weren’t a successful trick.”

“And your brothers- they’ll be okay?”

Raph snorts. “Those two? Girl, if there’s one thing they can get through just fine, it’s a bit of mayhem that _they_ created.”

April doesn’t comment on the fact that Raph’s confident smirk doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She settles quietly into her seat as Donnie enters a camouflage code into the dashboard, merging them into the anonymity of NYC’s thick traffic.

-/-

Mikey turns and jumps from the car he just torched, just in time to avoid joining it for a joyride onto the sidewalk and straight into a lamp post. He lands on the bike again, grabbing Leo’s coat for support and tossing a look behind them to see who else is still chasing.

“We got six- _seven_ hostiles still, bro,” Mikey informs Leo.

“Wonderful,” Leo replies. “Let’s show them what we got.”

Mikey clutches Leo as his brother rapidly slows down the bike, breathless with adrenaline as the next car comes within range. Mikey’s hoodie is already singed on the arm, but he ignores the smell of burning fabric again as he fires up his prosthetic- _literally._

Heat collects in his palm, and with a satisfying _FWOOM-_ Mikey blasts apart the tire of the car before the driver can lean out and shoot them. The driver makes a terrified expression and tries to regain control of his car, only to veer into another unmarked black vehicle and send them both careening. Mikey laughs and holds on tight as Leo dodges the round of fire coming at them from behind.

“That’s three down!” Mikey says.

“And four to go!” Leo finishes.

“Shall I deploy one of Donnie’s little toys?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Mikey reaches around Leo’s waist, feeling the partially hidden keypad up front of the bike. He’s using his flesh hand, so he can feel each of the individual bumps to the buttons. Markers for which is which, when you can’t stop and look. Bastardized brail is useful like that.

He grins as he feels the right one, and presses down. The back of the bike makes a whirring sound, and metallic tings follow the bike’s movements as miniature explosives fall out. Mikey twists and smiles triumphantly as next two cars shooting at them run over the little bombs- totalling their tires _and_ undercarriage. There goes their brake lines, plus fuel lines, plus everything else down there! The cars lose control, skidding to the sides of the road and crashing.

“It’s so satisfying to see people get righteously fucked up,” Mikey says cheerily, wind whipping against the exposed half of his face.

“It really is,” Leo agrees, but then swears as a barrage of laser fire gets too close. The last two cars are still gaining on them, and Mikey yelps and ducks as his head is nearly blown off. Leo shifts, and Mikey takes his cue to cling tighter to his brother. The engine of the bike roars as Leo opens the throttle and gives it his all, only able to control the beast of a motorcycle at this speed thanks to his enhanced reflexes.

They start to extend the gap between them and the vehicles in pursuit. Mikey’s mask protects his eyes from the stinging air- the partial integration of his comms is designed to let him see with it on, despite the lack of eyeholes. Leo meanwhile is stuck with goggles and his swirling tattoos, the latter providing no protection at all.

“So now what’s the plan from here?” Mikey asks as they speed along, dodging and weaving in traffic, getting angry honks all around them as they do.

“Keep going for a while and don’t get shot?” Leo suggests.

“Bruh.”

“I honestly didn’t think we’d get this far okay, I thought I was gonna get shut down in the garage.”

_“Bruh.”_

“We’ll be fine! Me and you- we’re good at spontaneous but ingenious plans!”

Mikey groans. Sometimes Leo could seem like someone smart enough to rival Donnie, and then sometimes he’d do dumb shit like this.

Mikey is then yanked out of his complaining thoughts as they turn down a new road, his eyes going wide at the unmistakably K-tech truck waiting there. A bright pink flash of light explodes into the air, moving in what feels like slow motion, and Mikey doesn’t even have time to blink before it hits him.

-/-

“So where are we going?” April asks, after they’ve been driving for a while. No word yet from the two brothers who split from the group, but it hasn’t been long enough for real concern.

That doesn’t stop April from feeling guilty that two people have put their lives on the line to save hers. It’s only been about a day and a half since she ended up with the brothers, but- she already feels a sick twist in her stomach at the idea Mikey and Leo might die for causing the needed distraction.

“To figure out how the fuck that happened,” Raph says tersely, scarred lips pulled in a growl.

“If it wasn’t your phone…” Donnie says slowly, and April catches him darting a wary, but apologetic look in the mirror at her. She gives him a wane smile, accepting his apology a second time. He blinks, an imperceptible gratitude for the forgiveness as he continues with, “Then, by reason… that means someone’s sold us out.”

“A traitor,” April says gravely.

“Yep.”

“There’s only a few people who knew where we live,” Raph says, rubbing his face and looking stressed. “One of ‘em would be like trying to get a rock to tell ya the day of the week. Wouldn’t happen, period. The other one, though…”

“She wouldn’t betray us,” Donnie says firmly.

“Fuck, you think I don’t know that?” Raph snaps. “But while she’s secure, all those lackeys of hers? I know Karai has a lotta faith in who she picks, but I just don’t trust half of them far as I can throw ‘em.”

Donnie nods grimly. “So Karai’s been compromised. Shit. K-Tech’s influence is a lot further reaching than I calculated.”

“Who’s Karai?” April asks. She doesn’t recognize the name from any of the aliases she’s uncovered to have connections with her extended family. But even so, if this woman knows the brothers, she’s undoubtedly a criminal, too.

“The person we owe for setting up the gig we had before this one,” Raph explains, glancing over his shoulder at April. “You know, the one where we were s’pposed to kill you?”

“…She’s a broker, okay. Great,” April says. “She has all your information, has all of _my_ information, and she’s been compromised by a traitor working for her still.”

“That’s the likely scenario,” Donnie says with a sigh. “Unless she’s spontaneously decided to fuck us over, which I doubt.”

April frowns, not wanting to point out that the ‘no honor among thieves’ phrase exists for a reason. The people April grew up with, grew up having to bend over backwards to please and outsmart in order to stay alive- they’d sell her out in a second, if they didn’t kill her themselves first. Who’s to say the broker the brothers work with didn’t do the same?

Still, if the brothers trust this Karai person, April will keep her thoughts to herself until it looks like things are really going to go haywire. Again.

They drive for another half hour, navigating the thick swells of traffic. Raph checks his phone every five minutes, almost; looking for an update from the younger duo. Donnie’s grip on the wheel is tight enough the leather squeaks sometimes. April bites at her increasingly ruined manicure and selfishly wonders if the remaining brothers would kill her if Mikey and Leo died.

Eventually, Donnie takes them down yet another dingy, dark road. The shops and restaurants and clubs that line it are varying levels of seediness; with half a dozen love hotels adding an extra sleazy effect to the neighborhood.

“The red-light district is where you get your jobs?” April asks, making a face at the area. The desperation of the population outside the car for love, for money, for anything pleasurable from life- it doesn’t make her feel all that inclined to step out onto the street herself.

Donnie hums. “People say and pay for crazy things when they’re drunk or high.”

“Besides, it’s not so bad,” Raph says. He points at a building they’re slowing down in front of. “Karai’s club is probably the best one in the city.”

“I can see people think so,” April says, raising an eyebrow at the enormous line-up in front of the club. Women, men, individuals too ambiguous to tell- all lined up around the corner to get inside. Lights pulse and swirl through the narrow windows lining the outside, almost in time with the big neon sign above the doors.

_Iron Heel,_ it proclaims in sweetly curling letters. Along with the name, the long bulbs of neon flash the image of a high-heel shoe, lifting up and then stomping down on the floor, which breaks underneath its sharp point.

“Is this… a BDSM club?” April asks, thrown momentarily.

“You’d think so,” Donnie says, while Raph barks a laugh. “But no. It’s just a dance club. The name is a tribute and a ‘fuck you’ to an old gang that disbanded almost three decades ago.” As he opens the door and gets out, April following example, he adds, “The Foot is long dead, but its heir lived on to start a new legacy of power and control.”

_“Power and-_ you said this was a dance club.”

“Yeah. Run by the baddest bitch possible.”

“It’s effectively a gang,” Raph adds.

That makes sense; that this Karai person hands out assassination contracts on the side. April looks up at the shining neon sign one more time, watching the stiletto crush stone under its heel, and then follows Donnie and Raph to the door.

There are two women guarding it, both broad shouldered and narrow eyed. Their crisp black suits have only one splash of color: a red handkerchief in the pocket, stark and vivid. Raph and Donnie walk up the steps, April following close behind, and the two women barely have to glance at them before one reaches to open the door.

“Welcome back, sirs,” says the woman holding the door. Her right eye has been replaced by an implant, same as the other bouncer. April can practically feel the scan the cybernetic eye does on her as they pass.

“And welcome to you, miss,” adds the other woman politely, surprising April enough she pauses for a moment. The bouncer inclines her head slightly. “Enjoy the club.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” April replies, and hurries to catch up with the brothers. They’re in a hallway, short and darkly colored, and April can see light peeking out from under the double doors up ahead. When Raph pushes them open, the formerly faint thrum of music washes over April in a wave.

“Oh wow,” April says, walking into the club, eyes growing wider by the second.

“Yep,” Raph says proudly. “I told you. Best in the city.”

April finds herself nodding. She hasn’t been to many clubs, trying to keep her image clean in the public eye, but- the Iron Heel’s dancefloor is packed, people of all shades, sizes, and dress dancing on it. The stage has a DJ, thick headphones over their ears and a manic jitter to their movements as they manipulate the music. Along the side of the room is a bar, racks behind it full of bottles big and small, some even glowing, and half a dozen bartenders working it.

April walks further in, eyes moving upwards. The ceiling is high and for good reason; there’s a whole other floor, overlooking the dancefloor and its occupants, sealed off by near transparent hardlight to deafen the club’s noise. April can see the tables of the dining area closest to the edge, people sitting comfortably, chatting and eating and drinking. April, after another moment of taking in the ambience, notices that the music isn’t overwhelmingly loud like most clubs, practically in the background even though the dancers are going at it full tilt. Curious.

Everything is tastefully decorated in sleek, dark colors. There are spots of cool light down on the main floor to brighten things up, and unobtrusive but exciting lights flashing on the dancefloor. On the second floor, warm floating fairy lights accompany the many date night couples lounging with their meals.

“I’ve gotta admit, this place is incredible,” April says appreciatively. The staff working here doesn’t hurt her opinion of it, either; most are women, groomed to entice and catch attention.

Serving staff, carrying small snacks or platters of drinks to standing tables along the walls, are dressed in thigh high boots and short black skirts, long-sleeved blouses a crisp white. Their red bowties make the whole ensemble pop. And slowly patrolling the sides of the room, eyes careful, are security guards in suits like the bouncers at the door.

It’s been a while since April let her mind wander enough for attraction to rise in her. With her 21st birthday so close and assassination attempts increasing, she hasn’t had anything resembling a relationship in years. Better to be lonely at night than to endanger someone’s life by dating her.

April brings her attention back to the brothers, if guiltily reluctant to, and sees a man in high boots and very short shorts talking with them. He nods once to whatever Raph just said to him, long earrings swinging, and hurries off into the crowds of the club.

“Wish I could ask if anyone fancies a drink,” Donnie says with sigh, “but I suspect bein’ drunk would just endanger us even worse.”

“We could get soda,” Raph suggests.

“I could do with some concentrated sugar,” April says, suddenly feeling the full extent of how frazzled she is. Getting blown up and then having to make a run for it? She’s got dust on her clothes and nothing in her stomach. A soda would be nice, until she can find real food.

Unfortunately, before they’ve even begun to wade through the club patrons towards the bar, Raph and Donnie both pull up short and April is forced to stop as well. She sees why immediately, spotting someone who is parting the crowd easy as breathing.

April is struck by how beautiful the woman approaching them is. Pale sheer fabric floats around her like wisps of faintly violet clouds, creating wide sleeves and a flowing skirt. Underneath it, perfectly visible through the thin fabric, is bodice, tall boots, and hand gloves going up to her biceps. All in perfect pitch black.

“Well _good evening,_ you three,” she coos in a sweet voice, tossing long black hair over her shoulder, fluttering purple lashes. Everything about this woman is black or purple, and in the case of her smiling dark lips, it’s both. “A little birdie told me we had special guests tonight. Allow me to take you to a _special_ room, just for the four of us, hm?”

“Sounds good to us,” Donnie says, smirking. The woman winks at him, and for a moment, April wonders a tad jealously if the two of them are possibly involved.

The beautiful woman leads them from the crowds, over to an adjacent hallway and down its corridor. She stops at a room that’s five doors down, pressing her thumb to the scanner. The glove on her thumb lights up bright white for a moment, then turns black again as the door slides open. They’re ushered in by her crooked finger, and the door shuts behind them with a quiet whoosh.

The woman, lips still curled and eyes fluttering, looks at them a moment longer. Then her expression changes drastically, dropping the mask of flirtatiousness and becoming utterly relieved.

“Oh, _boys,”_ she says in a hushed voice. The woman rushes forwards, arms open, and Donnie and Raph- hug her back. The woman holds them both, saying, “You’re okay, oh thank _god._ We saw the news- we couldn’t get a trace on you, and your home- we’ve been so worried. And,” She leans back, looking at the brothers with deep concern, “your younger brothers, where are they?”

“They’re fine, we’re all okay,” Raph says quickly, still holding onto the woman. “We all got out. Leo and Mikey just got the heat off our tails so we could get April here safely.”

The woman turns to look at April, who is only vaguely surprised by the intense onceover she’s given. April is beginning to get the sense that this friend of the brothers is a shrewd and cunning individual. Playing up her looks and pretty smile, and all the while examining for weak spots.

After a beat, the woman steps away from the brothers and comes towards April. She extends her hand daintily, expression coolly calm. “Ms. O’Neil,” she says politely. “It’s interesting to meet you.”

“April is fine, and it’s interesting to meet you, too,” April replies, shaking the woman’s hand for an appropriate amount of time and then releasing it.

“Oh, first name basis already?” says the woman with a cat’s smile. “How forward of you. You may call me Shinigami, then.”

April almost grins. “Shinigami? That’s a pretty unique name.”

“I am a unique woman,” Shinigami purrs. She brings her hand up and gently touches April’s cheek, trailing silken fingers to her chin. “And you, Ms. April, are a very _lucky_ woman.” Her smile suddenly becomes sharply threatening. “If you’d killed these boys rather than employing them, it would not have ended well for you _or_ your blood relations.”

April doesn’t flinch from those words, hardly blinking. “To be honest, I’d’ve liked it if you took care of my family for me. They’re being serious pains in my ass lately.”

Shinigami titters, dropping her hand and stepping away in a swirl of pale fabric. “Of course, of course. I’m quite aware of the hit put out for you; after all, I helped organize the payment for these idiots here.”

“I think ‘idiots’ is a bit harsh,” Donnie starts to protest, but Shinigami shushes him.

“You took a _bodyguarding_ job from your former mark, who is currently the most wanted woman in all of New York. You are. _Spectacular_ idiots.”

“She’s got us there,” Raph says amiably. Donnie groans loudly.

“God, _anyway,”_ Donnie says, before anyone else can start talking, “let’s move onto actually important things, and not our dubious decision-making skills.”

“You admit they are dubious.”

“If you were anyone else, Shini, I would say something snide to you, but you’re you and Karai would flay me. The intention stands, though.”

“It is graciously returned.”

“ _Anyway,”_ Donnie repeats. His annoyed expression becomes grim. “We didn’t call ahead about this, since it’s really a face to face thing, and… can you take a guess why our home went kaboom? Only you guys and us know about it, and I doubt of my brothers would have caused this.”

Shinigami’s teasing expression has turned into icy blankness. She inhales and exhales slowly.

“One of our staff is a _traitor,”_ Shinigami hisses with sudden venom.

“Sorry,” Raph says, “we know you pride yourselves on perfect employees.”

Shinigami waves his words off. “This is our fault. We not only gave you a bad job, but now someone has given your home’s location to the enemy. Stay here; I’m going to inform Karai of this.”

She turns and stalks to the door, skirt billowing behind her. Shinigami vanishes out of the room and down the hall, and the door slides shut with a soft click.

“Guess we wait here and call the others,” Donnie says with a huff. He wanders over to one of the couches in the informal meeting room they’ve been put in; complete with a downsized bar in the corner. While Donnie slumps into his couch, popping open a hardlight screen from his wrist and getting to work, April selects a plush chair, sighing as she sits. Raph picks another chair across from her, crossing his legs and sitting back.

April nearly reaches into the pocket of her borrowed hoodie, and then remembers she doesn’t have her phone anymore, thanks to a certain overreacting someone. She drops her head backwards and lets out an agonized sound.

“Forgot you don’t have a phone?” Raph asks in an amused voice.

“Shut the fuck up. That’s Donnie’s fault.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“That doesn’t fix that you _incinerated my phone.”_

Raph just laughs at them. “Sucks to suck.”

April scowls at the ceiling, intending Raph to feel the look without her having to sit up. “Gimme yours.”

“Uh uh, girl. I value my privacy. Raph’s biz is Raph’s biz.”

“ _Ugh,_ I’m not gonna go looking through your history or photos or anything. I just wanna know what’s going on outside of our personal hell.”

“Well,” Donnie pipes up, “for starters, like Shini implied- our house blowing up has made headlines, and Mike n’ Leo’s little car chase is trending everywhere.”

“They say anything about bodies?” Raph asks.

“Nnnnope,” Donnie replies, popping the P. “No bodies that concern us. Heh. Nobody? No bodies?”

“Good to see you’re filling in for Leo right now.”

“I have to get some practice in, in case they die and I end up having to fulfill both ends of our middle child act.”

The two brothers laugh at the morbid joke, though the humor dies down quickly. “…They’ll show up eventually,” Raph says firmly. April raises her head to look at them both, and sees quietly worried expressions on their faces. Donnie nods after a beat, eyes on his screens.

Raph does something with his phone, and then suddenly tosses it at April, who almost fumbles catching it. “Here, watch Netflix and don’t touch anything else. I’m gonna close my eyes for a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” April says, and Raph wastes no time slouching into a comfy position as he closes his eyes. She’d ask if he’s uncomfortable with his body armor and weapons still under his big coat, but with their luck…

Best to sleep armed.

They pass the time like that, doing mindless things while Donnie tries to get in contact with the missing duo. April is only ten minutes into a hate-watch of a _The Real Househusbands of Neo Yokio_ episode when the door opens, startling Raph out of his nap and Donnie from his light purple screens.

“She’s coming down,” Shinigami says, standing in the threshold. “Come. I want you in my sight at all times until this whole debacle is over.” As they all stand, she adds, “Have you had any luck with your brothers?”

“Their vitals are still going strong, but they haven’t initiated contact,” Donnie says with a frustrated tone. “I only called once each, in case someone…”

“…Has captured them,” Shinigami finishes. She nods. “Sensible. We wouldn’t want someone tracing the link back to the rest of you.”

She leads them out of the room and back to the bustling center of the club. It might be even more crowded than before, or April’s had enough time to come out of shock that she can feel overwhelmed by the number of people around her. Once again, Shinigami walks through it all, unbothered by the noise. April tries to stay as close to the brothers and the woman as possible, wary of bumping into strangers. _Anyone_ could be out to get her at this point.

Shinigami takes them to the bar, speaking quick and low to the attractive brunette currently working that end of it. The bartender nods, her loose curls swinging as she does. Shinigami turns to them. “Sit here; Frasier and the others will look after you for a moment.”

“We don’t need looking after,” Raph starts to gripe, but Shinigami just smiles coyly and spins on her heel, slipping into the crowds milling past.

“Sorry, sirs,” says the bartender, leaning on the counter and grinning at them. “And miss, of course. Looks like you’re stuck with us. Fancy a drink to pass the time?”

“Do you have coffee?” Donnie asks in a hopeful voice.

“Not down here, but for you all? I’ll put a call in to the kitchen upstairs and they’ll bring some down.” Frasier gives April a wink. “And for the lady, I’ll even throw in some tea cakes.”

“Think you could get me something deep fried and fatty instead?” April asks, giving up all semblance of trying to keep appearances. And Frasier is terribly cute, too, it’s such a shame. “I’m totally _starving.”_

“God, make that a double order,” Raph says.

“Triple,” Donnie corrects.

“Coming right up,” Frasier says, and gives a smile that makes April wish she weren’t wearing a borrowed set of clothes right now or the slightly bulky body armor underneath her jacket. As the bartender steps away to order for them- apparently knowing the brothers’ usuals, since only April was asked for specifics- Raph elbows April in the side as they sit down on the barstools.

“Better watch yourself,” he warns with a teasing grin. “We don’t come by too often, but every time I’ve been here Frasier’s had a different girl on her arm.”

“Honey, I have plenty experience with players,” April says, elbowing him pointedly back. “You don’t even want to know the list of one night stands I’ve broken hearts with.”

“Oh, so _you’re_ the player?”

“I prefer the term ‘free loving’.”

Raph laughs, and on her other side Donnie’s snort turns into a snicker. They pass the time trading small talk- mostly about women they’ve dated or thought of dating- until Frasier returns with a tom cat’s grin and a platter with their orders on it.

“I know who you are, by the way,” Frasier says to April, presenting her with a plate of fries and a burger. She leans on an elbow and smiles at April enticingly. “I think you should give me your number, and I could show you a _real_ good time. Better’n whatever these two have dragged you into.”

“I don’t have a number to give right now, and if you know who I am,” April says sweetly, picking up a fry, “then you should know getting involved with me is the last thing you’d want to do.” She pops the crispy fry into her mouth. Frasier huffs, shaking her head.

“I can handle a bit of challenge, sweetheart.”

“The sort where someone plays hard to get, or the sort where someone has a multi-trillion dollar company looking to put them six feet under?”

Frasier laughs. “Alright, you have me with that one. If you make it through that mess, you know where to find me.” She leaves with one last flirtatious smile, and April pops another delicious fry into her mouth.

“You get that sorta treatment a lot?” Donnie asks, shooting her a bemused smile.

April shrugs nonchalantly. “That sort, and creepy old men at parties looking to liven up their golden years, ugh.”

“Well, you are very easy on the eyes.”

“Nice try, dude. You’re a little too on the masculine side for me.”

“Can’t a guy compliment a friend platonically?”

April just rolls her eyes at him, and sets on finishing her food. She’s only about halfway through when a security guard slips up to them, interrupting their meal with a polite incline of his head.

“Sirs, miss. Your missing members have arrived.”

“Oh thank god,” Donnie says in a rush. Raph barely has time to say something along the same lines, before two people shove their way out of the crowd and head their way. Leo and Mikey have their arms slung across each other’s shoulders and are cackling like wild things, hoods up and looking _exactly_ like hoodlums in every sense of the word.

“Dudes!” Mikey says, a bit too loud for close range. He breaks away from Leo and tackles Raph the same time his big brother tackles him. Mikey hangs off Raph’s neck, both of them hugging each other in a death grip, while Leo grabs Donnie around the waist and drags him off his stool. Donnie yelps, clutching at Leo, and both of them do something of a convoluted greeting. One part hassling, one part laughter, and one part nagging one another about topics so quickly jumped between April misses all of them. Then, both pairs break apart, and switch returning siblings.

“Crazy idiots,” Raph scolds, grabbing Leo under one arm and holding him tight. “You didn’t call, didn’t leave messages- if Donnie hadn’t fuckin’ chipped the two of you, I’d’ve been worried sick.”

“Ack- we’re sorry, but it wasn’t our fault!” Leo protests.

“They hit us with something that put our comms on the fritz,” Mikey explains, contently leaning into Donnie’s side with his brother’s arm around his shoulders. “Didn’t get my arm or Leo’s neuronerve junk, but it killed all our low grade tech.”

“Great, more stuff for me to fix,” Donnie says in a put upon voice.

“And we love you for it, Dee,” Mikey cheers. “We’re also kinda late ‘cause we had to do somethin’ about this.” He flips his hood backwards then, and everyone makes a dramatic gasp.

“Your _hair,”_ April says, staring at the shaved portion of Mikey’s head. Where he’d had fantastic coils earlier, now almost half his head is shaved to the scalp.

“It ended up on fire at one point,” Mikey says with a carefree shrug. “No biggie, it didn’t burn me and it’ll grow back. I’m just gonna rock the half-fro afro for a while.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a second, I swear,” Raph mutters. He then hoists a startled Leo onto a bar stool, and says, “Okay, both of you eat. We dunno when we’ll next get a chance to fuel up.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Leo says, and starts devouring the remains of Raph’s already decimated plate. April pushes hers towards him as well, though she adds he has to split with Mikey.

“Actually, I’m good,” Mikey says, waving her offer off. “I ate a few power bars while Leo cut my hair, and I’m kinda too jittery to eat. I wanna move, ya know? Get the beans out.” He pauses, considering April with an odd look.

“You wanna dance?”

April almost sputters it’s such an out of the blue suggestion. “What- like, right now? Now now? When we’ve still got a mole to catch and people gunning for us?”

“Dancing like the world’s ending, lady. It’s the only kinda dance you should ever do.” He holds out a hand to her. “C’mon. We might not get another chance, right?”

“We’ll keep watch,” Donnie promises her, and- hell, why not? April has either a few hours to live or her entire life ahead of her. One dance won’t hurt.

“I’m not dressed for clubbing,” she says, but takes Mikey’s hand. It’s the flesh one, rough with callouses but soft like any young person’s is.

“I ain’t either,” he says cheekily, pulling her away from the bar. “Like, I got blood on my shoes and I smell like burnt stuff. But nobody here’s gonna care. Once you’re on the dancefloor, there’s nothin’ else that matters in the whole world.”

April raises an eyebrow, not convinced. The beat of the DJ’s music is rhythmic, sure, but not enough to overtake her like Mikey describes. The music is only loud enough to provide good backdrop, anyway, but she’ll give it a go. Because Mikey asked her to.

They make a brief stop with an employee by the dancefloor, who hands Mikey something, which he hands to her. “Put one on each ear,” he says, popping the little sticker circles out of their packaging and slipping them behind his ears. “They’re a limited use little dohicky Donnie helped design a few years back, like a glowstick or somethin’. They only last about a night.”

April slips the circles behind her ears as instructed, feeling their stickiness hold them there. Before she can ask what they are or do, Mikey grabs her again and drags her into the throng of the dancing crowd.

“Just give it a moment!” Mikey says over the noise. “It’ll kick in any second!”

“What will?” April asks, and Mikey just grins, releasing her hands and starting to sway with the beat. She stands there, confused, until it hits her.

The beat swells, kicking up in tempo. Others join it. April gasps as a wave of new music hits her senses, pulsing in her chest and thrumming in her heart. She smiles wide, abruptly elated and unable to stay still any longer.

“ _There you go!”_ Mikey exclaims. April laughs and gives into the compulsion to dance. The lights of the club seem brighter, the people around her happier- the music the DJ is playing is the best she’s ever heard and April can’t believe how good she feels right now. It doesn’t matter she’s in track pants and a T-shirt under her hoodie. It doesn’t matter she might die tonight, or tomorrow, or at any time in the future. There’s just this moment, the music, and the canny young man dancing with her.

It feels like forever- it feels far too short- that they dance. Whatever the little sticky circles are, with their delicate wiring inside, April can’t even bring herself to question what they’re doing to her. She’s _happy,_ and she hasn’t been happy in weeks. She knows this is temporary, but she wishes it could last longer than a night.

There’s an interruption to the euphoria, however. It comes in the form of a suited woman with an undercut to her short black hair, arriving in time with the sudden halt of the music, the drain of the unhindered happiness. The crowd is parting uneasily around her as she approaches, headed right towards April and Mikey.

She’s shorter than Shinigami had been, but carries herself with the same amount of authoritative grace. Except this woman isn’t hiding her edges with coy smiles and fluttering fabrics. This woman is like a bare blade, eyes sharp as her thick eyeliner and expression dangerous as an enraged snake’s. Cold, coiled, deadly.

Karai.

“ _Ladies and gentlemen,”_ says the woman who owns the club, who arranged the original hit on April, voice traveling through all the speakers of the building. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but Iron Heel is closing for the rest of the night. You have exactly two minutes to be out of my club before I remove you _myself.”_

The last word is growled, an unsubtle threat. The clubbers make haste to comply with the orders; especially as the security that’d been placidly watching them closes in, expressions grim and stone-faced. It only takes seconds for the building to be halfway cleared, and April for a moment is reminded of her extended family. The power and control Karai exerts over her territory is scarily similar.

“Hi, sis!” Mikey says, dancing over to the terrifying woman and giving her a hug.

-/-

Leo is unsurprised to see Mikey glued to their sister’s side, once the ordinary people in the room have drained out. April is watching Leo’s little brother and big sister with visible confusion, and it makes him smirk.

“Did anyone remember to tell April that Karai’s our sister?” Leo asks his brothers.

“Uh,” Raph says, which would be a no.

“Nice. You give us the hard job, and then you don’t even explain the whole plan to our client.”

“Shut up. I was too busy worryin’ about you two to remember. Raph can’t do everything around here, you know?”

“And your excuse, Donnie?”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

Leo cackles, offering his brother a fist bump. Donnie obliges.

“So how do you think this is gonna play out?” Leo asks, watching as the staff of Iron Heel- or gang members, really- begin to collect in neat lines.

“I’d say brutally, like usual,” Donnie says in a toneless voice, looking too tired to care. Leo pats his twin’s shoulder. It’s been a rough few hours for everyone.

“Karai is pretty brutal,” Raph agrees.

“We should probably go say hi, then,” Leo says. He wants to anyway, since they haven’t seen Karai in a few days.

Their sister is cold and stoic, as she always is on the job, but her gold eyes reflect warmly in the light as she looks up at their approach. Her arms come up around Leo as he reaches her, strong and comforting. He hugs Karai and breathes out a bunch of stress he hadn’t noticed he felt.

Ten years last spring since he met her. An aimlessly angry sixteen year old girl meeting an equally angry and aimless nine year old boy. Leo hadn’t known how much he could love his adopted sister until she punched a store owner in the face; saving him from getting beaten for stealing, and putting ice on his swelling cheek afterwards.

“I can’t turn my back on you four, can I?” Karai teases grimly in a low voice. Leo huffs a laugh and leans back from the hug.

“I’m surprised you still try,” he says, grinning. Karai tsks, smiling, and shoves him away, taking Raph’s hug next. Donnie is last to receive one, and he, as the two of them have always done, pretends he doesn’t actually want the physical affection.

It’s a game that Karai has played with Donnie practically since the first year they met. She hugs him, he leans away like he’s unwilling, and at the last second as they part he stoops to give Karai’s temple a kiss. It used to be that he had to stand on tiptoe to do that, but past the point of his and Leo’s fifteenth birthday, it’s been reversed.

“I’m glad you’re all alright,” Karai says, too quiet for anyone but their family to hear. She glances at April and Shini, who are lingering a respectful distance away. “This has ended up a bigger mess than you usually cause.”

“Gotta up the ante,” Raph says, but it lacks his usual boastfulness. He just looks tired and frustrated- mild anger covering his fear for their lives.

Karai is much the same in that, eyes narrowing and mouth a hard line. Her eyes flash in the light as she turns, seeming flashpoint yellow for a moment. Dangerous and predatory. Leo crosses his arms, running through his head all the weapons he has on his person- two guns, three knives, his new sword, the neuronerve enhancer- and gets ready for the show to begin.

Raph herds April into the group with a gesture, tucking her between them all and making sure Leo and Mikey are on the inside, too. Leo regularly might feel a bit rankled, being protected by Donnie, who is a scant few hours older, but this isn’t a regular night. This isn’t a regular job. He came close to dying so many times today he lost count. Leo concedes to being sheltered by his big brothers right now because if only inside his head, where no one can hear, he’ll admit he’s scared.

Karai paces, slow and purposeful, in front of her assembled troops. Leo skims the crowd- noting each face and categorizing them by the personal files Karai has of everyone in her employ. Mikey is the best at reading people; Raph is their hardest hitter when it all goes to shit; Donnie has a solution to every possible outcome imaginable. And Leo…

Leo catches everything that falls through the cracks, and figures out how to combine their talents to compensate.

Which is to say, while Donnie has a whole database on Karai’s people, Leo doesn’t need to look at a list. Donnie has too many things on his mind to remember it all, but Leo has space for it. He knows the people grouped to the back are Karai’s most trustworthy employees; her oldest, her best trained, her last defense line against a coup. The row of people in the front, subtly placed there by nudges and suggestion, are the least trustworthy. The ones under suspicion.

Two are backroom staff, the ones who handle paperwork and secretary stuff. Four are waiters, two more kitchen workers, one a bartender. Leo mentally places bets on the secretaries; access to confidential information, could’ve exchanged a call with K-tech easily without notice. Motive is easy, since everyone wants to get rich.

Karai comes to a stop, dead center of the rows. She turns smoothly, staring out over her staff and moving her eyes over them. Karai is perfectly expressionless as she speaks.

“There is a traitor among us,” Karai says bluntly. Most of the assembled employees look surprised, even horrified. “This comes as a great disappointment and shock to me. One- if not more of you- have traded information to very dangerous people who nearly killed my brothers and their client. If you have worked for me for any length of time, then I won’t have to tell you how very grave that offense is.” Her eyes flash as she glares, dark fury emerging in her.

“This club is not just a mere business. You are not merely my employees,” Karai says, starting her slow pacing again, shoe heels against the floor loud in the tense silence. “This establishment was built on a single ideal: family before all else. Fratricide, even indirectly, is the worst crime any of us could ever commit. I will. Not. _Stand for it.”_

Karai gestures sharply as her words ring in the air. Every row, except the front one, disperses towards the back. The people left front and center are frozen, some looking scared, others grimly set, ready for whatever Karai does next.

Leo cocks his head, raising an eyebrow at one woman on the left. A waitress. She has a look of blind panic in her eyes, a lip that’s quivering. Not even her lovely uniform can hide that she’s tensed like a cornered animal.

He sighs. He’s lost his bet with himself.

Karai stops in front of the waitress, expression solemn and… sad.

“Esther,” Karai says in a wounded voice. “How could you?”

“I-I’m sorry!” Esther cries, breaking immediately. “I- they just- they threatened to kill me, or go after my family. And- and they offered so much _money_ , ma’am, I’m so sorry-”

Karai raises a hand. Esther goes quiet, shoulders trembling. Shinigami, acting as the right hand woman she is, dismisses the innocent suspects, moving to circle Karai and Esther. Only Shini’s heels clicking on the floor is heard for a long pause, all eyes on Karai and their traitor.

“…I’m not interested in the excuse, Esther,” Karai says softly, almost gentle. “I’m just sad to see this happen. We brought you into the fold, Esther. We gave you a home. You were one of _ours_ , Esther.”

The waitress has tears rolling down her cheeks, muffled sobs escaping her lips. She nods jerkily. “Yeah, y-you did, ma’am. I can’t tell you how grateful I was. _Am._ I-I’ll always be grateful. Always.”

“And yet… you still betrayed me,” Karai says. “You gave the location of my brothers’ home to our enemies, and accepted money for their death warrants that _you_ signed. You know I can’t forgive that, Esther.”

Esther nods again, still crying. Karai sighs, turning her head and gesturing for someone to come over. Frasier, carrying a tray with two shot glasses and a bottle, approaches.

“I can’t forgive you, Esther, but… I don’t hate you,” Karai says, taking the bottle and pouring a drink into each shot glass. “This city- this world, really. It’s big and corrupt enough… someone will eventually be able to find a way to control you. Even you, even me.” She holds out a shot glass to Esther, who takes it with shaking fingers. Karai smiles, kindly and sadly. “Inevitably, all things come to an end. I’m sorry that your time with us has come to that, but I couldn’t let you stay here after this, you know that. You’re too much of a risk, now.”

“I know,” Esther says miserably. “I know, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Karai raises her glass. “One for the road, for the good times?”

Leo sees Mikey duck his head, what’s left of his hair falling in his face. Without looking, he knows his little brother’s eyes are shut. Leo puts an arm around Mikey’s shoulders, leaning close and whispering, “It’s okay, Mike. I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

Esther is smiling, watery and sincerely sorry, raising her glass. Karai knocks back her shot, starting to walk away from Esther before the other woman has drunk hers.

Leo sees Esther smiling, moving to wipe away her tears as she lowers her glass. He sees the back of her skull burst before he hears the blast of Shini’s pistol, sees Esther drop her glass and fall with it to the floor.

The waitress lies in a growing pool of her blood, eyes blank. The executioner of the Iron Heel, the _Shinigami,_ a Japanese reaper, a nameless woman who’s loyal enough to Karai to kill anyone she’s told to- Shini, Leo’s sister in law, lowers her weapon slowly. Her beautiful flowing dress has been sprayed with blood in places, due to the point blank shot.

Karai takes the bottle Frasier is still holding for her. She pours another shot, and raises it to the air, looking around at her followers.

“ _For those we have lost,”_ she says, loud and solemn, “ _we drink tonight in their place.”_

Every person in the room responds with a subdued call. Karai drinks her shot and returns the glass to Frasier’s tray. As her employees start to attend to what’s needed to be done- clean up Esther’s body, clean up the blood she’s left, hand out glasses and drinks- Shini floats across the floor to Karai’s side, twining their fingers together and speaking into her wife’s ear so quietly no one else can hear. Karai’s eyes are hard and shiny, and Leo looks away as his sister grieves.

He knows Karai can kill easily. Everyone in their family can. But when it’s someone she’s chosen, someone she’s trained and cherished and trusted- it hurts her deep enough to scar.

“…It’s over, Mikey,” Leo says softly, tightening his hold around his brother.

“I know, I heard,” Mikey whispers. He shakes his head slowly. “I liked her. I didn’t _know_ her, but… I knew her enough to like her. I hate it when it’s- you know. One’a ours.”

Leo nods, turning them away from the body on the floor and steering Mikey towards the bar. “I know, dude. I hate it, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the murder wives. thank god 2012 tmnt made them completely canon, right??
> 
> and tho i never quite managed to work it into the fic's plot- raph, don, and mikey's sexualities are bi leaning guys, bi leaning girls, and pan leaning nowhere in-particular respectively. april's is obvious, and leo we talk about later (yall can probably guess his tho).
> 
> [i also made a small youtube playlist for this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYvsUQWcUQmCDTQiX1G6MyeBBEvty54up), just to give kind of a feel for what the Iron Heel's musical background ambiance might be. also bc i just like sharing the ost of my brain.


	6. Jinxed It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You only have tonight and tomorrow left, right?” Karai asks. Raph nods. “Well, that won’t be too hard to live through, hopefully speaking.”
> 
> “Don’t jinx it,” Raph says dryly, sipping his drink. “We thought we were safe in the lair, and look what happened with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go here we go here we go
> 
> new characters in this chapter! i wonder if anyone can guess who they'll be before the latter half of the chapter................
> 
> also please leave me comments if you can! i'm going through a real rough patch of anxiety+general negativity with tumblr's insanity, and i'd really appreciate having something positive to wake up to in my inbox,,,

Raph is nursing a coke and rum- light on the rum, heavy on the coke- and feeling probably as close to relaxed as he can be, given the situation.

It’s been a hell of a few hours, that’s for sure. It’s easy to just sit at the bar with his big sister, let her take over being the eldest for a while. Karai manages a long roster of staff here in Iron Heel, and an even longer one of adjacent businesses. She can handle taking care of five more people.

“You only have tonight and tomorrow left, right?” Karai asks. Raph nods. “Well, that won’t be too hard to live through, hopefully speaking.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Raph says dryly, sipping his drink. “We thought we were safe in the lair, and look what happened with that.”

“My safety measures are a lot denser than yours, Raph. I’ll keep you all safe... mostly because we won’t be letting anyone know you’re here, now.”

Raph smiles gratefully. “Thanks, sis. Long as we can hold the fort until it’s time to drive April to the courthouse… I think we’ll be aight.”

“Well, then.” Karai raises her glass of brandy. “To your continued heath.”

“And to yours,” Raph replies, clinking their glasses together. As Karai finishes her gulp of her drink, Raph lowers his own and asks, “Hey, you gonna be okay? I know you… you know.”

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last time,” Karai says, voice controlled to be perfectly even. However, Raph has known her half his life, and he sees the cracks in her expression. The regret, the grief.

He puts a hand on her back. “Call me whenever,” Raph says quietly, rubbing between Karai’s shoulders. “Call any of us, one of us will answer. You never gotta go through this kinda thing alone.”

“I know, thank you,” Karai replies. She stands from her barstool, gently brushing off his hand, and gives him a tired smile. “I have to go work, now. Reassure people, sign paperwork…”

“Boss stuff, gotcha.” Raph smiles back. “Good luck with all that, dude, an’ don’t forget to chill out later.”

Karai shrugs non-committedly, and walks off to mingle with her employees. Raph chooses to finish his drink in the meantime, watching the milling members of Iron Heel. His brothers and April have paired off in duos- Mikey and Leo, Donnie and April- and are talking with either staff they know better or Shini. Donnie and April are with Karai’s wife, probably talking about repairs or new commissions she wants to order from Donnie. Leo and Mikey are talking animatedly with a couple of the bouncers and security guards, gestures and grins quick and wide.

Raph is glad his youngest siblings have shaken off their funk from the execution. Donnie can handle that stuff like nothing- in an almost worrying fashion, sometimes- but Leo, for all his bravado, and Mikey, though he’s just as acclimated to their line of work as the rest of them, really hate it when they lose an ally like this.

Raph doesn’t like it either, but. Well. He’s their big brother. They’re all almost completely grown up now, but he still can’t let go of the habit of trying to be as unshakable as possible. Someone they can rely on when they need to. Sometimes he wonders if Karai feels that way, too.

Probably. He’s pretty sure it’s an eldest sibling thing.

Raph is raising his glass to his lips, on his last gulp of the sweet drink, when there’s a thundering _BOOM_ that rattles through the whole place.

Raph’s glass shatters on the floor as he moves. The door of the Iron Heel is falling off its hinges; smoke flooding the air from it- Raph grabs the closest of his family, Donnie, and April along with him. His brother and client weigh nothing in his arms, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The two of them are easy to toss towards relative cover, both of them rolling with the fall and following instinct to hide. Raph turns to go after his remaining siblings in danger.

There’s a blur in front of him and suddenly Leo and Mikey are _right there,_ Leo wincing as he drops Mikey’s weight and holding his arm gingerly. He’s definitely strained his already tender shoulder with that move. Raph will find a way to take care of that later, dropping that thought for the priority of getting his little brothers out of the crosshairs as K-tech guns open fire on the club.

Raph grabs Leo and Mikey, shielding them and firing up his conduits along his skin. There’s a brief burn and then red blooms over his body, forming the Armor, and keeping laser blasts from scorching through him as he runs. At the end of the handful of seconds it took to react and accomplish all this, Raph heaves out a breathless gasp and kneels behind the bar counter with his family and April.

“Oh my god, they’re _relentless_ ,” April hisses furiously, the complete opposite of scared. She looks ready to run out and start throwing punches.

“It’s kinda their job to be,” Mikey points out, looking ruffled from being carried by two different people, but overall unharmed.

Raph feels a laser blast bounce off his Armor, hears the yelling and screams outside their shelter, and says, “Okay, we got cover, but no one else does- _now what?”_

Before anyone can answer, Karai vaults over the counter of the bar. She slaps her hand against the scanner on the underside of it, and with a quiet beep of acknowledgement, the defense system activates.

Raph hears the offensive fire stop near instantly, the ringing silence of the halted battle filling the air. He grins, and sees Donnie flash a smile almost as scary as Raph’s usually looks like.

“I am,” he says with a giggle of excited hysteria, “a fuckin’ _genius.”_

“Why aren’t we being shot at anymore?” Leo asks as Raph stands up, taking the easy risk of surveying their surroundings. The K-tech idiots who tried to storm one of the most well-established gangs this side of the city are shaking their guns, exchanging their cartridges. Desperately trying to get their weapons to work again.

“Leon, it took me nearly a month to get the charge to stop knocking out our electronics. How could you forget the periodic blackouts- you complained for hours after every single one.”

“I did? Oh. That thing. Fuck, Don. It’s way less annoying when it works right.”

The Iron Heel’s employees are recovering- only a few are wounded, and people are dragging them into the back, out of the way and headed for medical assistance. The rest of the women, men, and individuals working for Karai are standing up straight again, rallying as the second in command steps into the spotlight.

“Arm yourselves!” Shini orders, and those who weren’t already running for the weapon caches go bolting. Hidden panels along the walls are opened, false squares of the floor pried away, and the front-line runners- the best at hand to hand combat- charge the functionally unarmed K-tech goons.

Raph has to grin as waiters use their trays as shields and discus, and bartenders break bottles over skulls, stabbing throats with their jagged edges right after. He only takes his eyes off the growing brawl when someone grabs his shielded arm and yanks him down.

“I miscalculated how much of a shitstorm you’d bring with you,” Karai tells them, mouth in a grimace. “You need to leave, sorry. We’ll be alright, but if they know where you are they’ll just keep hammering us until we’re all dead. You have to find another place to hide- I can’t have people tearing up my club, not even for you guys.”

“Sorry about that,” April says.

“It’s not entirely your fault. They’re getting desperate to kill you, so it makes sense they’d attack even here. But there’s no time to talk about that- you need to be _gone.”_

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Leo asks, worry in his eyes. Their older sister smiles at him, and leans across the tight space they’re all in to hug him.

“Dad trained us well,” Karai says, aimed at all of them, probably, “and I have plenty of people watching my back here. I’ll be more than alright. Now go make sure _you five_ get of out this alright.” She releases Leo, standing up and stepping around them, back out into the fray as she rounds the counter.

“That’s our cue to get the fuck out of here,” Raph says, standing as well. His brothers and April copy, and together they start their dash for the backdoor of Iron Heel. Raph puts himself at the back of the group, maintaining his Armor and wary of any attacks that could sneak past Donnie’s specialized EMP security system.

He tosses a look over his shoulder, peering through the vague red tint his Armor gives his view. He looks back just in time to see Shini, unmistakable in the crowd, rip off her gauzy violet dress- revealing the truth of the formfitting black clothes underneath. In her sleek body armor, Shini spins the super-heated crescent of her chain weapon, sending it flying right into the chest of a K-tech thug. It slices right through his armor and buries deep between his ribs- falling forwards without a word as Shini yanks back her weapon. Her black gloves allow her to grasp the burning crescent, and she wastes no time diving into the heart of the conflict.

Karai is only a step behind, stopping only to retrieve her sword from its stash, and the last thing Raph sees as he turns away is the two wives, back to back with their burning bright weapons, and their subordinates following them every step of the way.

The Tank is parked out back, where it always ends up when they leave it out front. There’s exactly two of the highest-ranking members of Karai’s employees that have clearance to move the car; anyone else who tried would set off the alarm. Donnie put their prints into the Tank’s onboard computer system so they could drive it, but only within a small radius around Iron Heel- in case of the very scenario they went through tonight.

Killing Esther solved the information leak, but it hasn’t solved the fallout of that leak.

Donnie floors it before they’re even all seated. Raph hears the backseat trio shriek and cuss as they’re thrown around, but their distress is ignored as suspiciously unmarked black vehicles are suddenly following them- practically on their tails the second they leave the alley.

“Aw man, we left the bike,” Leo says in a sad voice.

“RIP our beautiful bike,” Mikey says, equally as sad.

“I’ll build you a new one,” Donnie says tightly, shifting gears and kicking up their speed, “just _buckle up_ already so I get us out of here!”

Their two younger siblings buckle up. April is already strapped into her seat in the middle, and has an expression like she can’t decide to be exhilarated or terrified. April wears that expression a lot, and it’s as endearing as it is bizarre. Crazy rich girl.

“So _now_ where do we go?” said crazy rich girl asks, and there’s a chance she’s getting used to Donnie’s psycho driving, because she’s barely seeming to notice the insane car chase they’re once again leading. “Both’a your safest safe houses just got blown up, so please tell me you got a third even safer safest safe house?”

“That’s a lot of safety,” Mikey comments.

“Oh if only,” Leo sighs, then squeaks as a turn shoves them all together on one side.

Raph looks at Donnie. Donnie tosses a brief and dangerous glance his direction as well.

“There’s really only one place,” Donnie says, and then swings them in a U turn and screams down the opposite side of the road- a trick that once again works to put some distance between them and their pursuers.

Raph huffs, feeling a smile curl on his face. “You heard him, guys. Guess we’re goin’ home.”

“Your _home?”_ April asks. “Uh, maybe I hit my head without noticin’ and screwed my memories, but didn’t your home explode?”

They all pause the conversation to collectively scream as Donnie drives them into a massive intersection and runs three red lights all at once. The pile up that forms behind them is a horrific symphony of screeching metal and tires. The K-tech vehicles as thoroughly blocked from continuing their pursuit, for the moment.

“Nah,” says Mikey, recovering first and nudging April with his elbow. “The lair was our home, but not our _home,_ you know?” He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We’re takin’ a trip back to our old hood, dude.”

-/-

Once Donnie hides them again with the Tank’s camouflage, it’s a relatively smooth ride to wherever they’re headed. April stares out the window of their car, watching the streets flow by. The businesses and apartments they pass drop in quality as they go, but also lose the skeevy feeling the red-light district they’d been in had.

April’s eyes widen more than once, catching site of ancient looking red brick buildings. Some of them might even be pre-2000’s, which is boggling to her, someone who’s rarely strayed from the pristine high-rises in the heart of NYC. Neon laces only some of them, as foreign looking against the old structures as the shiny and chrome technology dotting the streets; everything a patchwork of modern and near extreme retro. The cars they drive past now and again might even be plug in types, if not _fossil_ _fuel run._ The whole neighborhood is packed in on itself, newer buildings built on top older buildings, accessible only by lifts and stairways, every bit of space utilized and filled up, and yet- it’s somehow _less_ crowded feeling than the other parts of the city.

Leo beside her sighs. “This place never changes.”

“Sure doesn’t,” Raph agrees.

April is fascinated with their new surroundings. She’s never been this far from the inner city. There’s no vast webbing canopy of projected advertisements, no constant flow of traffic, and the streets and buildings are all in varying levels of disrepair. It’s like the other neighborhood the brothers had been holed up in, but with a different flavor. There’s history, here. Long history.

“You guys grew up here?” April asks, spying a closed grocer with handmade signs in its window.

“Yep,” Leo says. She feels him looking at her sideways, an edge of defensiveness rising in his voice. “What about it?”

“Nothin’,” April replies. She peers at a thrift shop they pass- she’s never been in one. “I just think it’s neat.”

“I think you mean poverty stricken and systematically oppressed, but sure,” Donnie says dryly. “You can call it ‘neat’.”

“See that corner store?” Mikey says, tugging her towards his side and jabbing a finger at the window. “We used to play a game there. Whoever could steal the most candy an’ get away with it won a piece from everyone else.”

Raph laughs. “I hated that game, I always fuckin’ lost.”

Mikey hums unsympathetically. “That’s just ‘cause you were a giant even when you were little.”

Leo leans towards April. “He could see over the aisles before he was even ten,” he explains to her. April laughs, imagining Raph with a puppyishly young face and already being so big.

The whole drive actually only takes about twenty minutes, excluding the time it took to shake K-tech and cover their tracks. April spends the latter part of their journey having street corners and shops and apartment complexes pointed out to her- each with at least one unique childhood story attached to them.

In the end, they roll up in front of a large three-story house in a neighborhood as tightly packed as all the others around it. It’s older than any of the other surrounding houses, caught between quaintly aged and falling into disrepair. Light glows softly through its curtained windows, at odds with the darkened street.

“Home sweet home,” Donnie says as they all step out of the car, letting the doors gently slam shut behind them.

“He better not still have her awake at this hour,” Raph mutters, taking point and marching up the walkway of the residence.

“He who?” April asks as they all follow.

“Who do you think?” Leo replies, slipping around Raph and beating him up the steps to the door. He turns the knob, and it opens easily. He grimaces, holding the door just a tiny bit open. “Ugh… they’re totally expecting us.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mikey says, rubbing one eye. “I’m hella tired an’ wanna sleep already.”

“Get what over with?” April asks. “Guys. Seriously. What’re we walking into?”

“Hell,” Leo says ominously.

“On three,” Raph says, and everyone ignores April’s further questioning as to what’s going on. “One, two- _three.”_

He and Leo open the door, charging in. April almost follows, but Donnie’s hand on her shoulder stops her. “Ah, let’s just hold on here,” he says, expression perfectly blank even as his eyes shine evilly. “Leo and Raph can take the brunt of things for us.”

“ _What_ things?” April demands. “Quit being so damn vague, all of you!”

“Just watch,” Mikey snickers, showing every bit of amusement Donnie is covering up. Not a second later, April jumps a little as dozens of high pitched _thwacks_ come from inside the house. Bizarrely enough, Ping-Pong balls start bouncing out the door. Leo and Raph run back out, covering their heads and screaming.

“ _Ah HA! The intruders are vanquished!”_ decrees a voice from within.

 _“Very good, young pupil,”_ congratulates another. “ _Now… let us see about the cowards hiding beyond our step!”_

“This is child abuse!” Leo yells at the house. He’s rewarded with a little plastic ball hitting him right between the eyes. Raph has the sense to keep his mouth shut and ducks to hide behind April and his other brothers. It doesn’t quite work, since the only one who even nears his height is Donnie.

“Oh my god,” April says, really and truly thrown by what’s happening. “What the fuck is- Raph, stop _hiding,_ your job is to protect _me_ -”

A short figure suddenly bursts out the open doorway, swinging a gun at them all. “Death to the capitalist scum!” they cry, and open fire.

Mikey shrieks, April sputters- both of them getting nailed with Ping-Pong balls. Donnie remains still through the whole barrage while the rest of them cringe and duck away. He takes the hollow impacts of the plastic balls with a resigned expression, eyes shut and mouth in a flat line. April shields her face and wonders what the fuck is going on.

“Are you done?” Donnie asks, once the attack stops. He’s shot between the eyes for his question, and Donnie lets out a loud sigh. His brothers all snort and snicker.

“Now we are,” says their attacker, voice smug and young. April cautiously lowers her hands, looking at the menace on the porch steps.

The young girl, skinny with pubescent growth and clad in soft teal pajamas, rests her gun against her jutting hip. She tosses a long black braid over her shoulder, grinning widely enough her dark eyes crinkle. Then, in a whirl of motion, she drops the Ping-Pong ball gun and takes a running leap off the porch.

“ _Guys!”_ she yells, and is caught mid-air as Raph makes a quick save.

“Venus!” Raph exclaims, smiling with his sharp white teeth and looking the happiest he’s been in the short while April’s known him. He hugs the preteen girl tightly, swinging her in a circle. “You little nutcase, what the hell’re you doing still awake at this hour?”

“You were comin’ home, I had to be! I had to get you back for _last time,_ ” Venus declares seriously, shooting a narrow-eyed look at Leo.

Leo raises a lazy hand in defense. “Hey now, that was a totally fair win on my part. You’re just a sore loser, kiddo.”

“And you are as bad a liar as you ever were, blue,” says the other voice from earlier, and April looks towards the doorway again to see a very small, somewhat portly old man stepping outside. He’s dressed in a worn traditional Japanese robe, and has a long white beard and mustache. He peers at them with keen yellow eyes, crow’s feet lacing his squinting gaze as he grins with slightly crooked teeth. “You cheated very obviously at that game of tag.”

“I’m not a bad liar,” Leo says, crossing his arms and huffing. Then he mutters under his breath, “You’re all just unfairly good at reading me.”

“Dad!” Mikey says, pushing past everyone else and jumping up the steps, stooping to hug the old man. Mikey misses somehow, stumbling as his father ducks and sidesteps him with such smooth movements, April almost didn’t see the whole thing. Mikey recovers, not losing his momentum, and rebounds to grab at his father a second time.

April doesn’t even see the old man move this time. Mikey is just suddenly landing in a handspring on the walkway and flipping onto his feet, and his father is standing on the porch steps, stroking his beard and smiling mischievously.

“Aw, _c’mon_ , pops,” Mikey whines. “We ain’t seen you in ages, and you won’t even let me hug you?”

“You may hug me when you can catch me,” his father chuckles. “You have not forgotten those rules, have you?”

Mikey grumbles and gives a mild glare. Leo comes over and gives his brother a conciliatory pat on the back.

“Uh, I don’t know if anyone else feels like it,” Donnie says, drawing everyone’s attention to himself, “but I’d like to be inside now, instead’a standing here like we _want_ to get sniped.”

Raph moves first, shifting Venus around in his arms and hanging her over his shoulder, carrying the girl into the house shrieking with laughter. Leo and Mikey go next, picking up the Ping-Pong gun as they go, with Donnie trailing at a sedate pace. Then it’s just April and the old man, who is their father, who April-

“I thought you were dead,” she blurts to the man, because she’s exhausted and frazzled and has just been accosted with Ping-Pong balls and it has been an _extraordinarily_ long day.

The brothers’ father raises his thick eyebrows by a fraction. “Did you now?” he asks.

April puts a hand on her head, running it backwards and feeling her messy ponytail. “Yeah, uh, ‘cause the brothers sure made it… you know, _sound_ like you were dead…”

“Hm,” says the brothers’ father. Then he turns partially and shouts, “ _LEONARDO!”_

“ _WHAT?”_ Leo hollers back.

“ _Stop telling people I am dead!”_

_“I didn’t- who the hell thinks you’re dead?”_

_“The girl!”_

_“I didn’t tell her that! That was probably Donnie or something!”_

_“I am not senile yet, boy, it is ALWAYS you!”_

“Uh,” April says, “it was sort of all’a them…? I only heard bits n’ pieces, and kinda drew my own conclusions.”

“Is that so?” asks the old man. He hums. “Well. I will have to have a talk with those four. I am far from dead, Ms. O’Neil, as you can see. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” April says, climbing the steps. “You wouldn’t believe how crazy the past few days have been.”

“Knowing my children, I might have a decent guess.” He holds out a hand, smiling. “I am Hamato Yoshi. You may call me Yoshi.”

“Only if you’ll call me April,” April replies, taking his hand and shaking it. She’s somehow not surprised to find unusual strength in Yoshi’s grip, despite how old he seems to be.

“April, then,” Yoshi says, releasing her hand. He starts for the still open door, April following. “Forgive the welcome, it is tradition in our home and good tactical training for my youngest daughter.” His eyes twinkle as he smirks. “It also keeps my older children on their toes.”

April laughs. “I don’t mean any offense by sayin’ this, but- every single one’a y’all is crazy, huh?”

“Perhaps so,” Yoshi chuckles, shutting the door behind them. “And for keeping company with us, does that not make you crazy as well?”

“Well… I’m not gonna deny that one, haha.”

“Then your stay here will be an easy one.”

And then Yoshi whirls to the side, avoiding Leo lunging for him from a room adjacent to the entrance hall. Leo hits the floor with a tumble, Yoshi smirking at his son’s failure to grab him, but a blur catches him from behind instead and Mikey clings to his father in a tight hug.

“ _HA!_ I gotcha, dad,” Mikey crows. Yoshi growls, looking annoyed by the trick pulled on him, and then makes an _oof_ sound as Leo grabs him in a hug, too, and Raph, Donnie, and Venus pile out of the room Leo had come from, forming a big group hug around their very grumpy father.

“I should never have let any of you get attached,” Yoshi mutters darkly, smushed between all his kids.

“We love you, too, pop,” Raph says warmly.

-/-

“Ugh, but I don’t _wanna_ sleep yet,” Venus says, fingers clutching at Donnie’s shirt. “You guys literally just got here, and I haven’t seen you in like, _months.”_

“Actually, the last time we saw you was on Monday last week,” Donnie points out factually, gently trying to pull his little sister’s hands off himself. “We had a three hour video chat, ‘member?”

“Oh my _god_ , that’s not the same and you know it.”

“Sorry, kid, but you got school tomorrow. Wake me up a’fore you go and we’ll hang out over breakfast, okay?”

Venus doesn’t look happy about it, but she slumps back against her headboard, releasing Donnie from her strong grip. He smiles at the half-hidden disappointment in her expression, patting Venus’s shin consolingly. “Cheer up, kiddo. We’ll all go for ice cream or somethin’ tomorrow, alright? You can even shoot our brothers some more with your Ping-Pong gun- which, by the way, works perfectly. Good job building it.”

Venus’s sullen expression lifts, becoming proud and happy. “Thanks! It’s got way better range than the last few, plus targeting. But I think it could be calibrated tighter, since I almost missed a couple’a times.”

“We’ll get to that, too, if we got time,” Donnie promises. “You did really well on your own, though; I don’t think you called me even once for help this time.”

“Mikey made the instructions really easy an’ fun,” Venus says. She smiles wickedly as a nine year old can. “I liked the picture of the policeman with Ping-Pongs up his nose.”

Donnie smiles back, glad that illustration on their homemade instructions had made Venus laugh instead of triggering her accidentally. “I’ll make sure to tell him- or, actually, you can tell him yourself. I’ll kick him upstairs when I go back down, ‘kay?”

“’kay, thanks,” Venus says. She sits up again, scooting closer into Donnie’s arms as they meet halfway for a hug. “G’night, Dee.”

“Night, kiddo,” Donnie replies.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses her crown, squeezing Venus and feeling very lucky they all survived long enough again for him to be here, holding his littlest sibling and getting to tuck her into bed. Donnie can create as many pre-emptive preventions to his own eventual death as possible, but it’s just a fact that someday a job might go bad and he doesn’t make it home. That’s why they always call their family right before taking a new contract; letting the hours prior to their work be the sort of note they wouldn’t mind ending on.

But. With this job, should they make it out of its mayhem… there’s a strong chance Donnie won’t have to live with those fears anymore.

He leaves Venus, tucked halfway into her blankets and sleepier than she’ll admit to being, and heads back downstairs. Venus is in the room Mikey used to have, when they all still lived here, so she’s on the second floor. Donnie’s old room on the ground floor got turned into a library of sorts, filled with shelves of DVDs and books all relating to their dad’s niche loves in the martial arts movie industry.

Donnie doesn’t mind that he won’t be sleeping in his old bed. He wouldn’t sleep in that room again if someone paid him to. He’ll be perfectly happy crashing on whatever horizontal surface he can, be it the bed or floor of one of the spare rooms, or the first couch he finds after this.

Donnie follows the sound of discourse as he gets to the bottom step, the location of his siblings and their pop easily found in the big bathroom. Donnie comes to lean in the wide doorway as Leo and Raph and Yoshi all cuss at each other at the same time. Leo is sans his shirt and doesn’t look pleased about it, and Donnie’s stomach does an unpleasant swoop as he sees the thick bruising blooming across his brother’s shoulder.

Shit. He hadn’t even noticed that Leo strained himself that badly. Whatever Leo and Mikey did to stay alive, through their diversion and then the club shootout, Leo obviously pushed his limits too far with his neuronerve enhancer and fucked up his shoulder as a result. Knowing his twin, Leo probably popped painkillers and pretended he was fine, god _dammnit._

“Sup, Don,” Mikey says, voice reaching Donnie despite the cursing match by the shower as Leo is forced into the spray, still in his pants. Mikey is perched on the closed toilet, looking downright perky even with his drastic haircut and still healing facial bruises. “You here for the show?”

“Not quite,” Donnie says, joining Mikey in ignoring their family’s squabbling. “Venus wants you to come up and tuck her in.”

“Right on.” Mikey hops off the toilet and slips out the door past Donnie. He’s gone in a soft gust of air, off and up the stairs quicker than Donnie can turn to look and so quiet he makes no noise on the boards above. Donnie lingers a moment longer, and then figures Raph and Yoshi have Leo’s scolding for being so stupidly reckless with his body well in hand.

Donnie meanders away; sorting through the sensations he’s feeling right now. He’s tired, there’s a headache on the edges of his skull that’s not ready to start throbbing yet. He feels weirdly too light without the weight of his coat and body armor and weapons on his body. He’s scared that K-tech will go so far as to attack _Hamato Yoshi’s_ _house,_ even with it being at the cross section of multiple gang territories, falling under the protection of all of them. He feels something like _safe_ for the first time in days, feeling the old grain of the wooden floors under his feet, smelling the musty scent of his childhood home, wandering in just a sleeveless sleep shirt and loose sweatpants.

Donnie hasn’t lived here in at least four years now. It still feels like he’s been gone barely a few hours.

He must really be tired; he’s starting to get nostalgic.

Donnie doesn’t feel like making the climb to the third floor, so he moves towards the living room at the front of the house. He plans to flop down on a couch and decompress there for a while, maybe nap until someone comes and drags him into a bed, but Donnie stops in the threshold, finding the room occupied.

April is tentatively looking out a window through the blinds, kneeling on the cushion in the sitting nook but seeming tensed to spring away. She’s very different from the woman they picked up in her posh hotel safe house; dressed in yet another set of borrowed clothes, lacking makeup at all, and wearing her hair back in a careless messy ponytail.

It’s not what Donnie imagines when he thinks of an heiress to a mega corporation like Kraang Tech. He thinks he doesn’t mind the contrast, however.

“Don’t worry,” he says, making April jump a little as she notices him. “All the windows in the house are bullet and laser proof. The walls are reinforced, too. You won’t get picked off by any casual snipers, I promise.”

April relaxes visibly, sitting down fully in the nook. “Oh, good. Thanks for lettin’ me know.”

They’re both silent for a pause; Donnie lingering in the doorway and April fidgeting subtly. Donnie debates going away, finding a different room to collapse in… but, for some reason, he doesn’t leave. April is looking out the window, peering at the world through the thin gaps the blinders provide, and she looks thoughtful. Almost weary and a little sad.

Donnie never lets himself care about anyone’s wellbeing besides his family’s, it would be too easy to care about more people than he can protect, but. Without him realizing it, at some point, he somehow became concerned not just with April’s physical wellbeing, but her emotional wellbeing as well.

 _The hell?_ he thinks, and that thought quickly becomes, _Fuck it, why not?_

“Can I sit?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, yeah you can sit. It’s your house, man.”

“It’s my dad’s, but same difference I suppose.”

He sits on the opposite end of the nook from her. The space is only about five something feet, and had been much larger to Donnie when he was younger. April draws her knees to her chest, leaning on them and seeming weirdly unguarded, here and now.

Donnie supposes he might seem the same way, unplugged as completely as he can be and lacking inclination to hook himself back up again before he has to. Neither of them is wearing extra protective layers or hiding weapons on their person, which is very strange considering their respective positions in the world.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” Donnie asks before he really thinks about it. April turns her head to look at him, and he figures he’s already taken the first step, might as well take the next. “You look like you’re thinking about something pretty hard.”

“Nah, I mean, not really,” April says vaguely, shrugging. “Just, you know. Stuff. From tonight. You guys, your family… I’m sorta just thinking about whatever; I’m really tired.”

“It’s a lot in one go, I know,” Donnie says. “Assassination attempts aside, I get why you’re tired. We tend to be overwhelming to people not used to us.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant at all.” April brushes a stray coil back behind her ear, chipped dark green nail polish catching Donnie’s eye for a moment. April gives a small smile, seeming _shy_ , which goes against every other aspect about her that Donnie has come to know.

“You guys, you’re…” April turns to look at the window again, not meeting Donnie’s eyes as she talks. “You’re pretty cool, honestly. Really fun, really close… I’ve just. I never had that, you know? I actually didn’t even believe real families could be like this. It’s been weird to see.” She shakes her head a little. “Sorry, that was weird of _me_.”

“It’s fine,” Donnie says, looking at April with curiosity. Her words seem sincere all the way through, like she genuinely means it. “…But, you’re right. They’re all pains in my ass almost constantly, but I’m that to them, too, and I don’t think I could imagine having anyone else for a family.” He feels a little uncomfortable talking about his personal life like this, with someone he barely knows, but. It’s just so easy with April. “I… I care a lot about them.”

“I can tell,” April says softly, smiling just as, looking back to Donnie again. “That sounds nice.” Her smile becomes bitter. “I wish I had even half that kind of relationship with my family. I hate them, but. Still, you know? In a fucked up way, I want ‘em to love me even now.”

Donnie’s discomfort with the situation returns, making his stomach twist a bit. He doesn’t like emotional discussions at the best of times, and even less so when it’s something like _this._

“I barely remember my parents,” April continues, not really looking at Donnie anymore, but at something past him. “I have pictures of them, recordings, all their possessions in our old house still… but I can only remember bits and pieces of who they really were, whenever they weren’t posing for cameras or shareholders…”

She trails off; wearing again the weary and sad look she’d had when Donnie decided to stay.

“Can you tell me about them?” Donnie asks, because maybe focusing on the good memories will help.

April shrugs. “They were a weird pair. Total opposites. My mom… she was a Kraang, the newest heir to the corporation. She and my dad were a political kinda marriage, since my family is new money and the O’Neil’s are old, _old_ money. Win some brownie points with the higher tiers of society and shit, right? That was the whole reason they met, basically signing themselves away ‘cause their families pressured them into the deal. I don’t think anyone planned for them to fall head over heels in love with each other.

“My mom was pretty much like the rest of our extended family, before dad. She an’ my auntie were like two sides of the same coin, sharing equal power in the company even though my mom was the sole CEO… until she married my dad, and he opened her eyes, I think. O’Neil’s are intellectual types, three PhDs or more for each one of ‘em. And my dad had all those plus, just… the biggest heart ever. A lotta his family spent their time accumulating wealth and fame with their work, but my dad was, I dunno, a humanitarian? He’d been working with charities an’ shit since he was in high school, practically. He… he changed my mom, honestly.

“…I miss them. They were just. They were these normal people when they were together. A normal, dorky married couple who burned the toast and forgot laundry and liked making bad jokes. I. I think, at least. That’s what I can remember still, but I was just a kid back then, so… who knows what they were really like.”

“If there’s anyone who remembers them right,” Donnie comforts, “it’ll be you.”

“Yeah, well,” April mumbles, “…I guess so. Maybe.”

They lapse into silence again, and Donnie wonders if he’s going at this from the right angle. April seems as upset as she started out as. This is much more Mikey or Raph’s forte, _feelings_ are so complicated and Donnie knows Leo at least agrees with him on that. Perhaps flushing the wound rather than picking at the scab might help?

“…How old were you,” he asks gently as possible, “when you lost them?”

April snorts. “I was six, and I didn’t _lose_ them. They were taken from me.” She looks him in the eye, and Donnie is a little startled to see a sudden depth of dark hatred in April’s gaze. “My own aunt, my mom’s _own sister_ had her an’ my dad killed. They told everyone it was an accident. It wasn’t. They staged the car crash.” Her grip on her arms tightens. “I was supposed to die with them, but I was sick that day, they had me stay home with Alo instead… so I survived. My auntie has been tryin’a kill me ever since.”

That is. So much worse than he expected. Jesus Christ. This was a horrible plan, why did Donnie do this to himself and April, god. He fumbles with his own words and emotions for a few seconds, before managing to say, “I’m. I’m sorry, April. Really. No one deserves to go through something like that, least of all a little kid.”

April nods vaguely, curled on herself and tired looking. “I… Thanks. It was a long time ago, but I guess it sucks even now.” She glances at him. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Donnie agrees easily, feeling guilty for having brought all that up, even with good intentions. “What d’you wanna talk about?”

“Well… I’ve been wondering about something.” April sits up a bit straighter, not so hunched on herself anymore. “Back in your, uh, lair. I saw you without your shirt, in your lab. What… what kind of tech was that? I’ve seen plenty of spinal replacements, K-tech even manufactures some, but I’ve never seen one so…”

“Over the top and somewhat grotesque?” Donnie supplies, smirking.

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“It’s cool; I know it’s a lot more than most folks want spliced into their backs. And before you ask- yes, it’s a full spinal replacement. I designed it myself.”

“Why such a dramatic surgery?” April asks, curious. “No licensed doctor would do that risky a surgery unless they’re military, and getting it done in a back alley chop-shop… the infection risks alone, Jesus.”

Donnie shrugs. “It was worth it.”

“What, ‘cause you get wifi in your brain now?” April asks, chuckling a little.

“There’s that, but walking under my own power was kind of the focus.”

“You- oh. Oh.”

Donnie has to crack a wide smile at the shock on April’s face. “I was born with a weak spine. Someone noticed, knew they couldn’t take care of me, and surrendered me into the foster care system before I was even one. And then I spent a lot of years making due with shitty wheelchairs and canes, up ‘til dad adopted us.”

“…That’s why some of the furniture and doorways down here are different,” April says slowly.

Donnie smiles, remembering the first time he realized why Yoshi had brought a bunch of strangers into their new home, and why they were cutting doorways wider and installing a whole new shower. “Yep, pretty much right away after we moved in the whole ground floor got renovated. Just for me. Weirdest and best day of my life when I was nine. I’m a little surprised you noticed that, though.”

“I’m observant,” April says with a sniff. “You don’t get anywhere in life if you aren’t.”

“Very true.”

“So, when’d you… you know. Get your surgeries?”

Donnie frowns a little, recalling those years. The guilt his family poorly hid, for not being able to help him more than muscle supplements to prevent atrophy in his legs. The pity of strangers, who only saw his disability and not his genius intellect. It’d done nothing short of driving him _nuts_ some days. “Not until I perfected the design, and… not until we had the money for the materials and actual surgery. I know this place makes it seem like my pop has big pockets, but we didn’t back then. He was still working, and… well, he hadn’t gotten a _big_ job in the last decade, an’ he’d been considering retiring until we came into the picture. We could’ve gotten me a corrective surgery, try an’ fix what was already there, but… that’s not what I wanted.”

“How come?” April questions.

“I wanted to do what my family was doing, just like every other kid in the world,” Donnie explains. “I wanted to be a martial artist, to actually _fight_. I would’ve been able to walk normally with the kind of corrective surgery people around here can get, probably even manage light activities without straining anything, but no way could I do what everyone else was doing. Plus, a disabled hitman has a harder time finding work than an enhanced one, haha.”

“…Wait, back up a minute,” April says, blinking and shifting her position to be cross legged. She leans forwards. “I’m sorry, but did you imply a few sentences ago that your dad is _also_ a hitman?”

“Yeah, I did, ‘cause it’s true.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m really not. He’s actually really famous around here, ‘s why we’re safe staying with him tonight. His house is at the intersection of a lot of major gangs, and all of them have this unspoken agreement no one fucks with him or his house.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s kinda wild, I’ll admit. He’s like, almost a _The Godfather_ kind of figure around here? But without actually having power over anyone.”

“But he’s. Oh my god. He doesn’t look anything like…”

Donnie laughs. “He’s _very_ retired.”

“No offense, but _definitely,”_ April agrees, laughing a little. It doesn’t come across as mean, however. It’s just good humor, shared with someone who’s…

…Possibly a friend? Strange. Donnie takes ages to warm up to anyone new, let alone someone like April.

“So how’d you get the money, then?” she asks, keenly interested in the story. “You were, what. Barely a preteen?”

“I was fourteen when we finally had enough, actually,” Donnie says, leaning his head back against the wall and looking at the ceiling. He can still remember the desperate fear of the years leading up to then, when he finally put a stop to that. “It wasn’t dad who got it, though. My brothers… Leo and Raph. They joined gangs, to get the money.”

“…How old were you all?” April asks, sobering from her earlier humor. Donnie can feel her giving him a _look_ , pitying them. That’s a natural reaction for someone of her background; unused to the harsher realities of kids growing up in the lowest income neighborhoods.

“Raph was twelve, but he looked way older,” Donnie says, sighing. “Leo couldn’t join until a year later, when he turned twelve, too, and even then. They only let him in ‘cause Karai vouched for him. They all ended up in the same gang, ‘cause, fuck. I think they were tryin’ to watch out for each other, I guess.”

“What kind of people let _children_ into a gang?” April demands, aghast. “You. You can’t _do that_. _How_ could they do that?”

Donnie huffs. “That’s the way it is around here. And- Raph grew up really fast, you know? He hit six feet before he was fifteen, and Leo… Leo was just really good at getting in and out of shit situations without being shot. They used Raph as extra muscle, an’ Leo as a mule.” Donnie clenches his fists, breathing through old anger. “I couldn’t fucking _stand_ them doing that, and dad. He wouldn’t stop them. Said we had to make our own choices in life. I still kinda hate them all for doing it, even if… I’m as I am today.”

“Jesus…” April mutters, leaning back against her side of the nook. “That’s a more complicated explanation than I expected.”

“Oh, it gets even more complicated,” Donnie chuckles. “I didn’t even get to the part where I got sick of them risking their lives for shitty people all the time, after Leo jammed a biotech prototype into his fucking _neck_. And I know you know what I’m talking about. No way K-tech doesn’t have its claws in biotech, too.”

“We… they work with it, sometimes,” April admits, sounding guilty. “It’s very, very limited, though. It’s too dangerous a product to produce and market without something going wrong.”

“Yeah, ‘something going wrong’ being a dumbass fourteen year old getting hold of a prototype and using it on himself.” Donnie rolls his eyes at his brother’s past actions. “Leo and Raph were together for a deal with another gang, and somethin’ went _really_ wrong. Someone pissed off someone else and that person got pissed off in turn and then someone started shooting people and then _everyone_ was shooting people. Fucking ridiculous. So, Leo, because he only takes risks like once a year, and they’re _always_ horrible ones. He takes the prototype the other gang was transporting, ‘cause he and Raph are hiding behind cover and pinned without an escape, and he just- _sticks_ the highly volatile biological technology into his own god damn neck. Idiot.”

“That’s that _thing_ he does, isn’t it?” April says, epiphany flitting across her face. “That thing where he moves and you can’t see him! I almost thought he was teleporting to be honest.”

Donnie shakes his head despairingly. “If only it were teleporting; that’d be less trouble. It’s a neurological nervous system enhancer. We call it the ‘neuronerve’. But, don’t give it too much praise. It’s really dangerous to use, since just because Leon’s brain and reflexes can move at high speeds, doesn’t mean his body can. If he lands on his ankle the wrong way when he’s using it, he might break it clean through. Maybe shatter it. And we can’t get the thing off’a him, either, which is just fantastic.”

“Because it’s fused with his spinal column and nervous system,” April says. She blows out a breath. “Because biotech is designed to act like a living organism, integrating fully with its host, so. Wow. Talk about equivalent exchange. He can move faster than anyone can react, but not without breaking his body. Christ.”

“And I give him shit for it every time he does something stupid with it,” Donnie says, a wry smile crossing his face. His stupid, reckless, incredibly brave twin. Damn Leo and every terrible decision he’s ever made in order to protect Donnie and their family.

April chuckles, lips quirking. “Okay, so that explains why Leo’s the human hummingbird, but you didn’t explain how that led to your surgery.”

“Well…” Donnie scratches his nose, grinning. “I saw an opportunity, after Leo and Raph showed up at our house scared outta their minds and in possession of a hundred thousand dollars in cocaine, plus the hundred thousand dollars that was to _buy_ the cocaine.”

“Oh _get out,_ no way.”

“Yes way. Everyone else got shot, so it was just the two of ‘em after, and they didn’t wanna get pinned for the whole screw up.” Donnie laughs, even though the weeks following that night had been nothing short of absolute chaos. “Dad wasn’t super pleased, but hell, it was way too late by then to do anything about it, so we just had to make up a plan on the fly and get as much out of it as possible. Basically we grabbed Karai outta the gang before anyone figured out what happened, sold the cocaine to a different gang with her help, dodged _two_ powerful families out for revenge, and finagled resources and a surgeon to do my spinal surgeries.”

“Bruh, that is so much in so little time,” April says, shaking her head. “And here I thought my life was crazy, dealing with assassination attempts every few months.”

“We have a talent for getting ourselves into messes,” Donnie says, sighing in exasperation, but feeling fond for his insane mishmash family. “I think the funniest thing about all that was Leo kept like, accidentally triggering the neuronerve and running into walls. Like, his poor _face,_ god. He had more bruises than he had skin.”

“Oh my _god,”_ April giggles, shoulders shaking. Her laugh is nice, Donnie decides.

April really isn’t anything like they expected her to be. Despite the dangerously insane and insanely dangerous situation they’ve all been dragged into, Donnie is beginning to be glad Mikey didn’t succeed in putting a hole in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the end of this chapter wasn't as messy or info-dumpy as i fear.
> 
> okay so ANNOUNCEMENT: due to my suspicion of tumblr, i've set up a [discord server here](https://discord.gg/PBqStWv) for any and all my writing fans. just read the rules and introduce yourselves, and go about things as you please. i want to maintain as much of my follower viewership as possible with tumblr's disintegration, and i'm also curious to see if people enjoy my writing enough to join a whole server for it.


	7. You Don't Always Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Morning!”_ Mikey cheers, chortling as Raph grunts and curses. He just laughs harder as his brother’s thick arms wrap around him, holding Mikey in a lock as he rolls over and stuffs Mikey down against the bed.
> 
> “Go back to _bed_ , Mike,” Raph says blearily.
> 
> “Nope! We have to see Venus off to school, ‘member? Donnie promised we would.”
> 
> _“Ugh, Donnieeee...”_
> 
> “C’mon, sleepyhead. Come laugh at Venus kickin’ Leon’s butt and help me cart Donnie downstairs. Also, I can’t find April.”
> 
> That last bit gets Raph out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another cameo from a previous iteration character! we miss her. i miss her. i'm not even sure if this is properly an IDW version of her or if i've bled between my headcanons, 2003, and reality.
> 
> i tried and therefor no one should criticize me.

“And so I wake in the morning, and I step outside, and I take a deep breath and I get real high,” Mikey sings, cracking another egg into the pan, “and I scream from the top of my lungs-”

 _“What's going on?”_ Venus choruses loudly with him, waving her chopping knife as she does. Mikey grins at his little sister, shimmying in time with the old as hell song playing on the radio.

“That’s my question,” Leo mutters, wandering into the kitchen with his hands over his ears, back from delivering another portion of breakfast to the table. “You two _have_ to be this loud right now?”

“We don’t gotta listen to you, king of bedhead,” Venus teases, snickering at the mess Leo’s dreads have become; courtesy of their hectic night prior, and a likely restless and uncomfortable sleep. “We have a right to free speech, a right to express our artistry!”

Leo makes an exaggerated face at her loud voice, and takes revenge for her comments by grabbing for her long braid. Venus however slips his grasp and darts away, taking the cutting board of apples and her knife with her.

“Do not run like that with sharp objects, cyan child,” Yoshi says as she nearly runs into him as he comes into the kitchen. Venus stops, letting their dad take the knife with a sheepish expression. He flips the blade and puts it back into her hand, adjusting her grip on it. “There. Now the _sharp_ edge is outwards, not inwards. It would not do for you to cut yourself rather than your target. Remember that.”

“Thanks, pop,” Venus says, grinning. She ducks just as Leo makes a grab at her from behind, still balancing the cutting board and apples perfectly as she flees to the dining room. Mikey rolls his eyes as Leo goes chasing after her.

“G’morning, dad,” Mikey says, grabbing the steeped mug of tea from the counter and handing it to Yoshi without having to be asked. “Nice to see your parenting tactics haven’t changed.”

Yoshi hums as he takes a sip of his morning tea. “Children play with knives regardless of a parent’s wishes. At least I show my kids _how_ to play with them without getting hurt.”

“True,” Mikey admits. He finishes frying the eggs in the pan, scooping the sunny-side-up breakfast onto the waiting plate beside the stove. He turns off the burner and moves the pan, lifting his arms as he turns and walks away so he doesn’t brain his pop.

In the dining room, Leo has gotten the kitchen knife away from Venus, but has ended up in a butter knife duel instead. Mikey sets their eggs beside the apples and the rice bowl, saying, “I think we got a contender for your swordsmanship title, Leo. She’s lookin’ pretty good today.”

“ _Ha!”_ Venus crows, slashing at Leo.

“No fair, kiddo,” Leo says, parrying the slash and feinting a jab at her in turn. “You already use a tessen, kamas, a sanjiegun- do you have to take my swords from me, too?”

“Yes,” Venus says, a wicked grin on her face. “Also, for the record,” she adds as she jumps away and darts around the table to grab one of pop’s many robes off a chair, “I’m also learning cape fighting!”

She snaps the robe in a fashion that is probably meant to be intimidating, but she’s nine and their baby sister, so it just comes off as adorable.

Mikey sighs proudly as she and Leo run off into the next room, taking their impromptu spar elsewhere. Mikey can’t help but grin goofily. Venus is going to be such a little hellraiser when she’s older.

He surveys the table, checking off mentally everything they should have done. Everything is accounted for, so that leaves the final task: getting everyone in their family to the damn table at the same damn time.

Mikey huffs and goes to take the stairs up at a light jog. With any luck, he’ll manage to get enough people to the table at the same time that they’ll _stay_ there, and not go wandering off because there aren’t enough people to make it clear breakfast is ready. The second floor has Venus’s room and their dad’s, as well as the small bathroom, the study, and the playroom. Mikey climbs to the third floor, where his and his brother’s old rooms are (technically not where Donnie was supposed to be sleeping when they were little, but they’d made him a room he could sleep in whenever he decided to not bother struggling down the stairs anyway).

First up is Raph. Mikey opens the door and slips inside, seeing his great big lovable eldest brother crammed onto a bed he’s outgrown. It’s only because of the king-size blanket borrowed from their dad’s linen closet that Raph didn’t freeze all night.

Mikey grins in anticipation, bending his knees and practically wiggling with excitement. As has been the ritual for years upon years, Mikey takes a running leap at Raph and lands across his big ol’ tummy.

“ _Morning!”_ Mikey cheers, chortling as Raph grunts and curses. He just laughs harder as his brother’s thick arms wrap around him, holding Mikey in a lock as he rolls over and stuffs Mikey down against the bed.

“Go back to _bed,_ Mike,” Raph says blearily.

“Nope! We have to see Venus off to school, ‘member? Donnie promised we would.”

“ _Ugh, Donnieeee...”_

“C’mon, sleepyhead. Come laugh at Venus kickin’ Leon’s butt and help me cart Donnie downstairs. Also, I can’t find April.”

That last bit gets Raph out of bed.

Thankfully, Mikey causing his brother to panic doesn’t last more than a few thundering steps towards Donnie’s room, where they open the door, about to start shouting about their techie needing to scour the CTV cameras for signs of April- and end up finding their missing heiress on the floor.

Donnie is also on the floor, because apparently neither of them thought to use the actual bed in here. They’re instead sprawled on top of the huge squishy body pillows Donnie collected back in the day. There is also emptied junk food containers scattered around them both, and a bunch of Donnie’s gear, too.

Mikey runs a hand over the shaved half of his head. “Well… at least we only gotta do one trip now?”

“What even happened here?” Raph asks, sounding tired. One of the bodies on the floor twitches, and April sits up quickly enough she sways, blinking at them.

“Wha?” she asks, squinting. Her glasses are tangled into her disaster hair, its ponytail on the side of her head.

Donnie, meanwhile, opens one eye. He examines their interruption of his sleep, and then scowls and puts his face into his pillow, electing to ignore them.

Mikey glances at Raph, who gives him a resigned look.

They roll up their metaphorical sleeves- neither of them has put on real clothes yet, still in sleeveless PJs- and do what needs to be done.

Mikey gets to haul April out of the room, who is considerably more agreeable to that than Donnie is. Raph just plucks Donnie’s skinny butt off the floor and hikes him over his shoulder, carrying their half-asleep and pissed off sibling downstairs even as he demands to be released.

Leo and Venus are relatively easy to wrangle, too. Mikey just gently pushes their groggy client/friend towards the dining room and grabs Venus around the waist the next time she and Leo go racing through the hallway. She shrieks and kicks, claiming he’s obstructing the execution of justice.

Leo pulled the hair tie off her braid, apparently.

“That _is_ a death penalty offense,” Mikey says agreeably as he carries her towards the table.

“I think community service is more appropriate,” Leo defends with a snicker, trailing behind them. He snags Venus’s butter knife out of the air as she tosses it at him.

“We’ll let the jury decide,” Mikey says diplomatically, depositing Venus by her chair and pulling one out for himself as well. While his sister fixes her hair, he picks up the sunny-side-up eggs and slides two onto her plate. Growing kids need their protein.

Yoshi comes into the room last, drawn by the noise of food being served. He takes his seat at the head of the table, stealing Raph’s toast just as he’s about to bite into it and pretending not to see the offense in his son’s face. Donnie is on the far end, sipping morosely at a mug and looking a little dead still. Beside him is April, who is starting to recover, but definitely still tired. Leo is next to Mikey and Venus, hogging the apple slices to himself.

It’s nice. This is nice. Mikey hasn’t had a proper meal with his whole family in a while- excluding that Shini and Karai aren’t here. Once the remaining hours until April’s birthday are up and they’re paid for their hard work, Mikey decides they’ll be coming back a lot more often.

Laughter on the end of the table draws his attention for a moment, eyes going to April getting still sleepy Donnie to brighten up a little and laugh with her. Mikey can’t hear them over the chatter of Leo and Venus, plus Raph and their pops, but Donnie’s smile is easy and genuine. And so is April’s.

Mikey leans his cheek against his hand, considering them both. He’d just been guessing when he joked about the two of them getting along scary good, thick as thieves if they were little kids again. It looks like they don’t have to be in grade school still, though, because Mikey knows the expressions Donnie will wear with close friends of theirs, and that’s one of them right there.

Looking around, Mikey takes in the whole of his family. Their dad, his three brothers, their little sister, and… April, who just about blends perfectly into the ambience of their loud, messy breakfast time.

Weirdly, Mikey looks at April and almost feels like she’s always been right there, between Raph and Donnie on their side of the table. Like she just… belongs there.

April catches him staring, and waves a hand. Mikey remembers after a second to wave back, smiling to himself and feeling silly.

Ah, well. He can have a few odd daydreams right now and no one has to know. It’s early in the morning still; they’ll evaporate as the sun rises into the sky.

-/-

April, when she’s cleared the whole of her plate, finds herself feeling… content, almost?

She’d spent a long portion of the night talking with Donnie, who’d been plenty willing to. After their pasts had been gotten out of the way, they ended up moving between subjects, following their own threads of thought without resistance. The junk food raid in the middle of the night had been the cherry on top of their spiralling conversation about cult classic sci-fi films. April and the brothers share the same taste in movies, it turns out.

At one point, Donnie started to say _“Maybe sometime we c-”_ but cut off before he finished. April was and is fairly certain he’d been about to say that they could all watch a movie sometime together, after… all this.

But why would they? They’re not _friend_ friends. They’re… an employer and employees. And when April signs her name on the documents that will transfer Kraang Tech back under her control, this will all be over and they’ll go their separate ways.

Despite how insane the past two days have been, weirdly enough, a part of April feels disappointed she won’t see the brothers anymore.

For now, though, she feels fed and happy and as rested as she can be under these circumstances. The plates of food have been picked clean and everyone is starting to stand up to leave. April copies, wondering if she should take her plate with her? Do people without maids and cooks have their guests do the dishes, too? She’s done her own plenty of times, but April doesn’t know the correct social actions in this situation.

She’s saved from having to awkwardly ask by Yoshi clapping his hands for attention, and saying, “So… who would like to help clean up?”

“Me an’ Leo cooked,” Mikey says quickly, “so we dibs out.”

“I will!” Venus says excitedly.

“No,” Yoshi says, shaking his head. “You will go and get your clothes for the day on and go to school. You can clean up dinner tonight instead.”

The youngest member of the family pouts a little, leaving the room with Mikey and Leo, who try cheering her up with promises to help her do her hair in a fancy braid. April watches them go with mild confusion; in every show she’s ever watched, kids hate to help clean up after meals. Maybe Venus is just an exception to that?

“And I have stuff to repair,” Donnie says and disappears out after them, quick enough April could swear he also has a neuronerve heightening his speed. With all the younger siblings gone, that leaves just Raph, who rubs his face and grumbles.

“Guess I’ll help,” he says reluctantly.

“I’ll help, too,” April volunteers. She gets a wary and warning look from Raph for her offer. “What?”

“You sure?” Raph asks.

“Uh, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Too late,” Yoshi says, drawing their attentions back to him and the bundle of utensils he’s picked up. He grins at his son, wide and sly. “She has already agreed to help, red.”

Raph shakes his head. “Keep it below her face, aight? She’s gotta be presentable tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” April starts to ask, beginning to feel confused and suspicious, but then doesn’t have time to wait for an answer as forks come flying at her tines first.

April shrieks as she ducks, avoiding impalement by utensil. She darts a look at Raph just in time to see him grab the forks out the air with one hand, each spaced out between his fingers.

“F- _What?”_ April splutters.

“Hiding under the table doesn’t help,” Raph advises seriously.

“What the fu-”

Slippered feet appear around the bend of the table at a speed _far_ quicker than a geriatric old man should be able to move. April wisely doesn’t even bother yelping and just scrambles up and away, following Raph’s retreat back to the kitchen. She checks over her shoulder just in time to spot a plate flying at her. She ducks again to avoid the second attack, and hears Raph curse as he snatches the weaponized dish out of the air.

“You can’t let ‘em get smashed, Jesus!” he scolds, holding the plate with the hand that isn’t holding forks.

“Poor form, April,” Yoshi tuts from the doorway. “You are not very good at this game so far.”

“You never explained the rules!” April snaps.

“Do not get hit, and do not drop anything,” Yoshi replies pleasantly. He flicks his hand and three butter knives appear in it as he smiles.

“I don’t like this game,” April manages, before the knives are thrown her way. She can’t dodge, isn’t allowed to drop anything- _fuck_ \- so she reacts fast as she can and snags two of the three. Raph catches the third and tosses his collection of dishes into a plastic tub by the sink. April’s heart is starting to race as the retired hitman regards her with a curious stare.

“Hm,” he says, and somehow produces a stack of plates from behind his back. Because of course.

April hurriedly tosses her knives at the wash tub- they clatter into it- and fumbles to catch the porcelain dishes hurled her way. Raph catches four with ease and April manages two, suspecting _this_ is why they all have chips and cracks in their glaze.

“And I thought you were such a nice old man,” April mutters.

Yoshi laughs, his whiskery beard shaking. “You also thought I was _dead,_ so you should discount your preconceptions of me, April.”

April scowls, and spends the next two minutes catching and dodging the remains of their breakfast as Yoshi attacks her and Raph with them.

She’s smiling by the end of it, excited that she’s having _fun_ with this dangerous and ridiculous game that’s somehow normal in this home. When all the dirty dishes are stacked in the tub by the sink and the condiments have been put in the fridge, Yoshi gives April an unreadable but kind look and says,

“Passable. You may stay.”

And leaves April blinking in confusion as he mosies out of the room. She glances at the clock on the wall. It’s only seven thirty in the morning. What. The hell.

“That means he likes you,” Raph explains, patting her back with his big hand. “Like, I think he even _approves_ of you, which he never does with anyone.”

“Uh… thanks, I think?” April says, feeling slightly less confused. “…He’s got a weird way of showing it.”

Raph shrugs. “Eh, we’ve lived with him a good chunk of our lives and none’a us really get what’s going on in his head either. But you did alright with cleanup, which was him probably testin’ your skills, so… it’s kinda like he’s accepted your presence in our home, if you wanna be, uh, fancy about.”

Raph looks awkward as anything. April isn’t sure why she feels a little flustered.

Jesus it’s too early for this.

“I’m going back to bed,” April says abruptly.

“Same,” Raph says immediately.

They both escape the kitchen, and April retreats upstairs, headed for the room she’d slept in to lie down and feel a lot of feelings that don’t make much sense.

Halfway up, she runs into the youngest member of the household. April is a little startled to find Venus crouching on the stairs, blocking her from reaching the third floor.

“Uh…” April says slowly, somewhat uncomfortable with how intently the little girl is staring at her. “Can I… help you?”

Venus cocks her head like a curious bird, a few stray black hairs that have escaped her long braid falling into her face. “Maybe. Depends.”

April raises an eyebrow. “Depends on what?”

“Are you really the lady who owns the company that killed my parents?”

The question hangs in the air, a long silence following it. The easy, exasperated humor April had been feeling is struck through with icy shards.

“…What?” she manages weakly.

“Are you. The lady. Who owns. The company. That killed. My. _Parents?”_ Venus says purposefully, annunciating each word. She’s still staring at April, eyes sharp and an age to them that speaks of… loss.

April knows that look.

She sees it in the mirror sometimes, even so many years later.

“My mom n’ dad were protestors,” Venus states when April still doesn’t reply. Her slim fingers dig into her folded arms, like she’s hugging herself. “They really hated K-tech, ‘cause all they do is hurt people n’ the environment n’ stuff. They went to a rally against them a couple’ve years ago, and… got arrested.” Her voice doesn’t waver, but Venus’s eyes are accusing. “They didn’t come home after.”

April thinks a part of her is trembling, deep in her chest. She knew, she _knew_ her family’s company did terrible things. But she’s never had to face the reality of the fallout, not until now, standing here on a staircase and facing the judgement of a child K-tech stole everything from.

“…I’m so sorry,” April says quietly, unable to offer anything else.

Venus doesn’t react to the apology, but asking again, “So are you? Are you the lady who killed them?”

“I-” Her throat almost constricts. “No. No I’m not. I don’t… I’m going to own the company soon, but I’ve never had any control of it before. I… if I’d been in charge when your parents…” April breathes in and out, aching. “That wouldn’t have happened. At all.”

Venus stares for a long, long moment. Then, she stands, straightening her t-shirt and tucking loose hair behind her ears.

“I know,” she says simply, coming down the steps. “Leo an’ Donnie caught me when I was listening to their private conversation, an’ made me listen to your side of things.” Venus stops in front of April, inches shorter and somehow, against all reason, gives a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you lost your parents, too. I miss mine a lot, even though I got pop and a buncha siblings now.”

“I- you- um, good?” April stutters.

Venus nods. “So yeah, my brothers already said we could trust you, an’ that I shouldn’t get mad at you for stuff your family did. We can’t control what’s not ours to control, right? But I still wanted to see for myself what kinda person you are, anyway. Sorry not sorry.”

And then Venus slips around April, gone with a flick of her braid as the young girl runs downstairs and leaving April to open and close her mouth in disbelief.

The memory of Leo yesterday, lashing out at her for the damage K-tech has done to people he cares about- April realizes then that he’d been talking about his _little sister._

She’d felt badly back then, and now… April can barely swallow the second-hand guilt her relatives don’t feel at all. Venus- she’d been so lively and happy this whole time, how can she stand to be in the same room as April, knowing that she represents everything the girl should hate?

Except, Venus doesn’t seem to hate her.

That… almost makes it worse.

April climbs the steps to the third floor, numbly entering the room she’d slept in and lying down on the bed. Venus’s smile and unspoken forgiveness runs through her head, a confusing loop April struggles to accept as reality. And while she’s mulling over _those_ thoughts, she realizes with a start it’s nearly her birthday.

Tomorrow April turns twenty-one. She’s almost done it. She’d been thinking about how soon this all would be over if they lived just a little longer, but the gravity of it, the milestone she’s about to mark… it didn’t fully hit her until now.

All the plans she’s made for this momentous occasion, the revolutions to her parents’ stolen company she has lined up to execute- they’re suddenly all very real to her and April is a little overwhelmed by how much her life is about to change.

She’s so close to winning she can taste it.

April has no idea what to do with that, having gone through her whole life waiting for someone to finally succeed in ending it. Even though she’s fought long and hard to get this far, a part of her never really expected to. A part of her, until this moment, has been treating the plans as hypothetical wants and wishes. Desires that didn’t have good chances to being realized.

And yet, she’s almost made it. She’s almost escaped the oppressive shadow of her hateful aunt. April is going to be _free._

She’s… she’s almost a full grown woman, and neither of her parents is here to see it. Not even her closest friend and lifetime long bodyguard is here to see it. April misses Alo so much it hurts just as much it hurts to miss her parents.

It’s not fair. It’s not _fair._ April was having such a nice morning and now _this,_ the unwanted reminder that her own family hates her and hasn’t wanted her around a single day of her life, right after having to face the eyes of someone who has firsthand experienced the travesties K-tech is capable committing. Eyes that hadn’t even rightfully _hated her_.

The last of the warmth from being in the Hamato house evaporates in her, leaving her cold and alien in a place that doesn’t belong to someone like her. April can talk the talk and walk the walk but at the end of the day who she is boils down to an orphan of tragedy, unloved by everyone but a single person in the whole world. A singular person that nearly died trying to keep her alive.

The only reason anyone has ever cared about her, besides Alo, is because of her money and her status. She’s had a hundred different people try courting her, some going so far as to give marriage proposals from the time she was fourteen, and a hundred others trying to convince her to show them favor, fund some inane project of theirs, show up at a social event they’re holding, do this and that and whatever they want, strutting around at their whims like a posable doll they’re all fighting over.

It’s a sad thing to realize, but the happiest April has been in _years_ is the past two days, running for her life from her own family, finally out of the limelight of high society and instead hiding out with… the brothers. Who make her laugh, and smile for _real_ , and treat her like an actual person when they could just treat her like a pending paycheck.

The brothers, who truly care for each other, who have father who adopted all of them and _loves_ them, who have two sisters that both clearly adore them, and- and just seem to have everything April doesn’t.

They have the family that April wishes, deep in her aching heart, she still had, too.

The knock on the doorway startles her enough April glances to it without stopping to wipe her eyes.

“Apr- oh, fuck,” Mikey says, staring at her tear streaked face. He shuts the door quietly, darkening the room save for the dim light coming through the closed curtains. “Hey,” Mikey says softly, moving to sit on the other end of the bed with her, “are you okay?”

“I- yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry,” April says in a rush, pulling off her glasses and wiping at her face. She resists the urge to sniffle. “I’m just, having a moment, I guess. D’you need me for something?”

“It can wait,” Mikey says, and then as his voice becomes gentle, he adds, “We got time to talk about whatever’s causing your moment, if you want.”

“…Not really, it’s just. Stuff. I’ve been dealing with it for a long time, it’s fine.”

Mikey doesn’t speak, an uneasy vibe coming off him. April pushes her glasses back on, grimacing and wishing she could’ve kept it together just two more days. Then she could curl up in a bed of her own and cry in private.

She’s just about to ask what Mikey needs her for, when he beats her to breaking the silence with his own question.

“You remember how you asked about our codenames?”

April stops. She nods after a moment, curiosity about the meanings of the nicknames rekindling in her.

Mikey smiles, tilting his head in a way that makes his half-a-head-of-hair flop into his face. “When I was still little, I was kinda a big scaredy cat. Especially of big dogs an’ thunderstorms, ‘cause the storms sound like _huge_ dogs growling, right?” He raises one of his arms and its skin shimmers, changing from brown to gleaming metal. “I’m still kinda nervous around big dogs ‘cause of what happened to me when I was a baby. You remember the street baby crisis?”

April nods slowly, putting the pieces together. The street baby crisis, as it’d been coined in the media, was during a period of such dire economic losses that thousands of people were turned out onto the streets. No one had income, no one had any way to support themselves. Among those unfortunate souls were hundreds of pregnant women who gave birth during those years.

“They’re pretty sure my mom got killed by some bastard she was sellin’ services to,” Mikey says, turning his hand to look at its palm and all the interconnected, overlapping plates and joints. “I got left in a box of clothes just a block away where she had us sleeping. No one was watchin’, and I was like, only a few months old… so a stray dog decided I was an easy meal. Almost took my whole arm off before anyone could stop it.”

“Oh my god,” April whispers, and only just stops herself from reaching out and grabbing Mikey’s hand- metal or flesh one, she wouldn’t care. Deep sympathy and horror rises up in her. First Venus, and now Mikey. “I- Mikey, I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”

Mikey shrugs. “I don’t remember it, so like. I’m kind of detached from the whole thing? But at the same time… people remembering it for me and tellin’ the story when they thought I couldn’t hear was enough to gimme a pretty big phobia of dogs n’ anything that sounded like one. Which is why I was talkin’ about storms and shit. Whenever a big one would hit when I was tiny, I’d go an’ hide in this special cardboard box. It had my name on it and everything, an’ the foster care people let me keep it by my bed. I’d curl up really small underneath it and hide until the storm was over. The adults that were taking care of us all started calling me the little box turtle ‘cause of that, haha.”

“Still not following how this relates to the codenames,” April says, amused by the image of a tiny Mikey hiding in a box. “But, that is super cute.”

“I’ve always been terribly cute, I know,” Mikey preens, grinning cheekily. “But I swear this does have a point, I just had to give you backstory here. When me and my brothers got older, we had to figure codenames to go by after we faked our deaths. So no one would find dad or Venus or anyone else. All of ‘em were pretty awful, but then Leo made a joke about them just callin’ me box turtle again, and it clicked.” He laughs at the memory, and April is so jealous of the warm affection in his voice for his family.

She pushes down the feeling, instead giving a teasing smile and saying, “So your big bad hitman names… are turtle names?”

“Don’t tell anyone, no one would ever respect us again.”

“That’s so adorable, oh my god.”

“Shhhhh, we’re highly skilled and amazing trained killers.”

“Named after _turtles_.”

“Maybe so.”

April laughs at the fake miffed expression Mikey holds for a moment. “Okay, so what turtles did you guys pick?”

“Well… we picked Spotter for me, after the spotted box turtle,” Mikey explains. “’cause I got vitiligo and because of my old nickname. And we did Slider for Leo, ‘cause of his birthmarks being like a red eared slider.”

“How’s Soft-touch a turtle species, exactly?” April questions. “I’ve never heard of any like that.”

“Soft-shelled turtle,” Mikey clarifies with a chirpy tone. “Because of his weak back, and ‘cause Donnie likes to do everything afar. Poisons and sniping and all that, which is… I guess a softer way to kill someone than stabbing them straight out? Not my style, personally.”

April snorts. “I dunno if there’s any real way to kill someone ‘softly’.”

“Well, there’s suffocation by pillow, unplugging someone’s life support after they’re brain dead- very peaceful way to go I think- or slowly draining the oxygen out of a home, or drowning- drowning is actually very gentle once you give into things. And there’s, of course, the general experience of dying while you’re asleep… I could go on.”

“You’re secretly a very gruesome person, huh?”

“Only to someone who doesn’t do this for a living!”

April is only somewhat concerned how little she cares that Mikey probably has done all those things and more. Him and his brothers… they’re at least very caring people off the clock, and disinclined to take jobs for any hits they deem less than justified. As Donnie explained to her last night, they hardly ever go after anyone who doesn’t deserve it. High up executives of companies that embezzle insurance money, abusers looking to kill their victims after they’ve gotten away, a few aging politicians Donnie couldn’t name which politicians, but assured her they more than deserved to die for what they’d done in their careers.

In comparison to _her_ family, the Hamatos are closer to saints than the Kraangs ever will be.

Venus is proof of that.

Again, April sweeps thoughts like that away, moving to her final unanswered question. “And Raph? Why Snapper?”

Mikey snickers. “Snapping turtles. If you ask him why, he’s gonna say it’s ‘cause he can snap people’s bones easy peasy, but it’s because he’s a big fat grumpy guts, just like snappers.”

April cackles at the teasing. “That’s beautiful, thank you for that imagery.” She feels miles better as Mikey cackles with her, starting on regaling her with a story about how long it took them to pick those turtles. All the hours and hours they spent researching the species, and the sometimes frankly horrifying facts they found out about turtles.

He’s interrupted however, not much later, by someone rapidly knocking on the door as they almost kick it open. Leo stands in the doorway, jittering and looking between overstressed and really annoyed.

“ _Mikey,”_ he says in a scolding tone, “you were supposed to go and _get_ April, not sit down and gossip!”

“What’s going on?” April asks, frowning and feeling a foreboding in her gut. “Is something wrong?”

Leo scoffs. “ _Wrong_ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Get downstairs- you have to see the news.”

-/-

Raph stares at the TV, not sure if he wants to go take a few rounds with the punching bag in the dojo, or hide his face in a pillow and scream in terror.

“We are so beyond fucked at this point,” Donnie says in a faint voice, also staring at the television still. That’s the third time he’s mumbled that. Raph just reaches over and gives his brother’s shoulder a firm squeeze again, since he’ll similarly need a moment longer to process this all before he can actually comfort anyone.

“Where the hell are Mike and April?” he asks no one in particular. And Leo, too, for that matter. Their secondary middle sibling has been zipping around as he pants and panics, he should’ve been back by-

Leo appears between one blink and the next, still frazzled and pacing aimlessly. Raph and Donnie don’t even react to the belayed rush of air that follows Leo’s entrance into the room. A few beats later, footsteps coming downstairs announce April and Mikey’s reappearance before they actually arrive.

“What’s happening?” April asks, looking at them all with a concerned expression, hinting that she’s picked up on the fact that shit has gone south yet again.

“ _That,”_ Leo says in a tight voice, jabbing a finger at the tv. April turns towards the living room television, and she blanches.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, eyes wide. “I. Fuck. I can’t believe-… This is bad. This is very bad, right?”

“Yes,” Donnie says in the monotone voice of his beyond panicking mode, “this is very, very bad. Congrats, Ms. Kraang-O’Neil, our lives are now equally fucked up as yours.”

“Donnie,” Mikey hisses with a frown. “It’s not her fault.”

“I- I’m sorry,” April says anyway, moving backwards without looking until she hits a wall, pressing her back against it and keeping her eyes locked on the TV. “I didn’t think- this is beyond anything they’ve ever done. I. I didn’t expect them to go this far.”

No one answers her apologies. Raph and his brothers keep staring at the screen, watching the news anchor continue reporting the information she’s been told to provide. All five of their faces are on flashing past, with their _real names_ and everything else attached to them.

_“-Kraang Technologies hasn’t given word yet on whether or not they’ll pay the ransom demanded for Ms. O’Neil’s return, but they have released a plead that her kidnappers do no harm to her in the meantime as they rush to organize a proper response to the ransom of a hundred million dollars-”_

“I called the school,” Yoshi informs them, coming into the living room with a phone in his hand. He’s still hanging onto that kind of outdated technology, refusing comm implants even as Donnie tries every Christmas to convince their dad- and Raph would smile at those memories, were he not watching their lives come crashing down on them right now. “Your sister will be safe very soon. I expect you to be ready to leave when she is.”

His usual laziness has disappeared, the cool and calm gaze of the assassin their dad used to be taking its place. Raph can’t spot them- he’s never been able to, no matter how hard he tries- but he knows the dark and thick robe Yoshi is wearing conceals a dozen or more weapons. He’s ready to defend Venus with everything he has while they get themselves out of this mess, and part of Raph misses being a little kid. The security of knowing he could just hide behind his pop whenever the world got too scary and dangerous.

He doesn’t have that anymore. Yoshi can’t protect them all; he might be as canny and talented a killer as he ever was, but their dad is old. He wouldn’t be able to take on K-tech and the police to save them, not without getting himself killed in the process.

This is a fight Raph and his brothers will have to fight on their own, while their dad and little sister go hide somewhere safe in the meantime.

Raph stands, quelling his fear and holding onto the responsibility of protecting his family. “We’ll be ready. You take care of yourself, dad; we got everything else”

Yoshi nods, sparing only a glance at April before he goes to collect his own supplies. Raph’s little brothers all head off, too, knowing already all the emergency bags and extra weapon stashes they’ll need. Raph almost does, too, but stops in the doorway because April still hasn’t moved from her rigid press against the wall.

“April?” Raph asks.

“I’m fine,” April replies, nearly mumbling. Then, she shakes herself and repeats with a stronger voice, “I’m fine. Let’s get going; just tell me how I can help.”

Raph recognizes the act of someone putting on a brave face, but he doesn’t comment. He just nods, and takes her with him.

They have minimal equipment from the lair, so it’s a good thing Donnie encouraged a level of paranoia that led them to having spares here. Soon as they all have proper clothes on, Raph gets a body armor vest on April right off; ensuring she stands a decent chance of surviving. As he gears up in the dojo along with everyone else, he listens with half an ear as Donnie and Leo list the potential dangers of what they’re going to be facing off with.

“They’re putting our faces out there to stage this like an accident,” Donnie is saying as he tests his bo staff, spinning the length of dark metal once before collapsing it again and stowing it across his back.

“Also to discredit anything April might claim,” Leo adds, testing his own weapons out. His sword slides out with barely a whisper and collapse just as quietly.

“They’re boxing us in so that if April _is_ killed, it’ll be our fault and not theirs.”

“The circumstances fit the motive they’re writing for us. You’re about to become the richest person in the world, and are their ‘treasured’ and ‘cherished’ heiress they’ll do anything to get back.”

“This is the perfect time for someone to kidnap you. You have one day left before you’re twenty-one, it wouldn’t just be believable to what cops aren’t corrupt, but the public will eat this up like a buffet.”

“The tragedy of a young and promising billionaire, her life cut short by the dastardly criminals who shot her when they got backed into corner.”

“Or, you catch a stray shot from a well-meaning officer. They’re quietly discharged from the force right after and disappear forever with a large check in their pocket.”

“Everyone mourns your death and spits on ours for a few weeks, someone hunts down our family and takes care of those loose ends-”

“-and your aunt and co. continue their tyrannical reign on society unhindered, not a single living person left to oppose them.”

“Brilliant plan, honestly.”

“We’ll shoot them all through the eyes for it.”

“What is it with you and shooting people in the eye?” April asks wearily.

“Think of it like playing golf,” Donnie replies. “It’s always so satisfying to get a hole in one.”

Mikey snorts as he shrugs on a jacket over his gear. “Says the guy who’s never played an actual game of golf in his life.”

“Focusing,” Raph reminds patiently.

“Right, right,” Leo says, waving him off. “It all boils down to the fact that we’re on the final round of this stupid chess game and our opponents are willing to play dirtier than ever.”

“We have less than twenty-four hours until April is legally the CEO of K-tech,” Donnie continues for his twin. “They’re scared and desperate. This is their last playing card, and all we have to do is survive it.”

“But- what happens to you after?” April asks, looking around at them with eyes that show regret. Raph finds that once again, April does the opposite of what they might expect of her; worrying about their futures instead of her own.

“Well…” Leo says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Donnie.

“It’ll probably be on you to get us out of legal trouble,” Donnie admits, and Raph knows how much his brother must hate doing so. Donnie doesn’t like being dependent on anyone, especially when it comes to keeping their family safe.

April nods firmly. “I can do that. I’ll make sure no one can even touch you when we get this over with, I promise.”

And from her expression, her tone- Raph can tell she means all that, wholly and truly.

He silently and solemnly swears she’ll live the next twenty-four hours and years to come, not just because it’ll save his family, but because he’s realized he’s ready to do just about anything for April.

It’s only been two short days, and yet. Raph already cares about her. Donnie told him in private, the truth of April’s parents’ deaths. How her family has been trying to kill her constantly ever since then. That she envies the family they all have.

April has deeper strength than imaginable, and Raph thinks she more than deserves to see her twenty-first birthday and all the ones after. Maybe she’ll even let him help her celebrate it later, and if not him, if he doesn’t get to see this through to the end- then maybe the rest of his family.

He doesn’t know who he might have grown up to be if he were someone like April- alone, threatened, hated and used. Raph found love in a collection of people who weren’t related at all to him, but have always been his family nonetheless. He thinks he would have been a lot bitterer and cruel than April has ended up, if they’d switched places.

And who would April have been?

If she’d been yet another older sister to the others, scrappy and funny and barely tamed even as she is now. Another wild child among half a dozen others, raised in a tangle of struggles and triumphs and unconditional love.

Raph wonders for a moment if she’d have been happy, growing up a part of their family instead of all alone.

A quiet and embarrassed part of him wonders if it’s too late to find that out.

The roar of loud engines outside the house, audible even all the way from the back of it, draw everyone’s attention. Raph meets the eyes of his brothers and moves in sync, all of them headed for the front. April mutely follows, hanging back and looking tense.

Raph opens the door, looking out over the street and stepping out before anyone else. Motorcycles crowd the street, the growling bikes surrounding their house. The helmets of the riders glint in the early sun, a brilliantly purple one standing out as the woman wearing it stalks up the sidewalk to the porch steps.

She pulls it off as she stops there, flicking hair that’s streaked with the same color as her helmet; purple bangs hang starkly against her chestnut skin. Her piercing eyes glare at them all, and Raph hears April whisper a hasty question to Mikey if they should start running or what.

Then, the woman grins wide and tosses her helmet to the side, opening her arms and crying, “Raphie boy!”

“Angel!” Raph cries in turn, and accepts the hug of the skinny but iron muscled biker. Their sometimes babysitter once upon a long time ago. Angel laughs, whapping him on the back. She then shoves him off and grabs the next person, dragging Leo in close and pinching his cheeks.

“God _damn_ you fuckin’ knuckleheads,” Angel scolds, a wicked grin on her face as she exchanges a spluttering Leo for a resigned Donnie. “I turn on the radio, and what do I hear? A _city-wide manhunt_ announcement for you five. Then your dad calls and tells me to go an’ fetch your kid sister- hot damn have you ever gotten yourself into a bitch of a situation this time.”

“It’s a talent,” Mikey says breezily, accepting his turn for hugs without any complaint.

“Cool, so we’re not dying yet,” April says under her breath, seeming relieved that Angel is a friend.

“Not if we can help it,” Angel replies, catching the uttered sentence. She jerks a thumb at the other women removing their helmets, all of them hardened bikers with just as much guts and grit as Angel has. The Purple Dragons, a roving neighborhood gang that was formed by women who wanted to actively protect their community, especially kids and single women. They, next to Karai’s gang, are the people who can absolutely keep Venus and Yoshi safe. “Me an’ the girls already got Venus to a safe house. We’re here for the old coot, plus to give ya an escort far as the territory limits.”

“I _heard_ that,” Yoshi mutters, pushing through to the front of their group. He has just two small suitcases, but they’re likely all the supplies he’ll need.

“Hey, Mr. Hamato,” Angel says, grabbing the bags from Raph’s dad, whom she towers over. Raph had been so amazed when he was younger, finding a woman so _tall_ and cool.

“Mr. Hamato is my very dead father,” Yoshi complains, walking past Angel with a huff.

“Should I call you Splinter, then?” Angel laughs, easily speaking the codename of the assassin Raph’s dad put to rest years ago.

Yoshi doesn’t turn around as he replies with, “Only if you wish to make people piss themselves in fear.”

Angel snorts and goes to follow. “Crazy old coot. You kids have fun, aight? I’ll take good care’a your folks.” She fixes an abruptly serious look on them, bravado fueled humor disappearing. “Do not die on me, any of you. That includes your little friend there. I refuse to attend any funerals.”

“We won’t,” Raph promises. His brothers echo the promise, their voices solemn. Angel nods, and goes to store their pop’s luggage and mount her bike again, flipping her helmet up into her hands as she passes it.

Before Yoshi climbs into the sidecar of a waiting bike, he stops to turn back and look at them. Raph holds his dad’s gaze for a moment, still looking to him as Yoshi’s eyes move between each of his sons. A long pause follows, all of them silently communicating. The moment is only broken when Yoshi glances away.

Their pop climbs into his sidecar, putting on his helmet as the woman driving him kicks her motorcycle back to life. Half of the bikers ensemble goes with him, Angel leading the pack of leather clad women.

As always, their dad didn’t say goodbye.

Because, no matter what the situation, he always fully expects them to meet again. There are no goodbyes in their family; only welcome homes.

Raph turns to his brothers and April, looking at them all. They meet his eyes with stalwart expressions, ready for the next great battle as sirens start to draw near in the distance.

“Time to go,” Raph says, and so they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added the 'murphy's law' tag for a reason haha. if it can go wrong, _it will go wrong_.
> 
> also! [don't forget i have a discord now](https://discord.gg/PBqStWv)! come and talk to me about this fic, or my others, or just hang around in general. it's open to everyone!


	8. In Which Things Continue To Go Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo can’t shake the sense of foreboding he feels, lodged in the back of his mind and nagging his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little shorter than the other chapters have been, but i felt this one needed to end on a specific note.

Leo can’t shake the sense of foreboding he feels, lodged in the back of his mind and nagging his thoughts.

They’ve made a clean get away from home, Donnie’s camouflage of the Tank working like a charm as usual. They’ve passed at least a dozen squad cars screaming in the other direction, and none of the cops driving by them have so much as glanced their way.

Things, considering their situation, are going not too badly. Which is what Leo is worried about.

There are plenty of active players on the board right now. There are also plenty of potential next moves for both sides. Leo knows him and his brothers will be taking the stealth route, as is how they’ve been trained and have always operated. Keep a low profile, hide in the least likely of places, and conceal their presence in the city as much as possible.

But that’s what they’ve been doing this whole time, and each hideout they’ve had has been discovered. Leo knows a pattern when he sees one, and between him and Donnie, they’ve analyzed as much of it as possible. The newest factor is that the entirety of the city’s population has unwittingly become snitches- prepared to blow the whistle on their location the second someone spots the distressed heiress and her kidnappers.

Which should be enough of a shift to the playing board that Leo shouldn’t be feeling like this. Twitchy and suspicious, because he _knows_ there’s something missing here.

What’s K-tech’s strategy here? What’s their angle? All they’ve done is chase them to a new location, back into the winds without anyone’s knowledge of where they’re headed. Hell, _they_ don’t know where they’re headed from here. At this point, no one in this situation can predict where the to-be Queen on the board will end up.

So why risk April being stashed somewhere even more difficult to find? Why lessen their chances of defeating her?

Leo has to sigh and rub his eyes, irritated that he _should_ be feeling good right now about their third time around escape, but instead is running circles in his own mind about a problem that might not even be real.

As he drops his hand, he glances slowly around the interior of the vehicle, taking in the faces of his family and their client. The windows of the Tank are tinted, so everyone has donned their masks. There’s little point to it now, beyond the familiarity and false security of them.

Donnie’s helm has long since been abandoned in the lair, but he’s dug out an older prototype of it he left at their dad’s place. It only covers the upper half of his face and the beginning of his crown; it also has only two sets of multicolor eyes with fewer functions than its descendant model. Still, its cutting edge tech despite being a few years out of date, if only by Donnie standards.

Mikey’s plain orange mask is in place, hiding the pinched worry Leo knows his younger brother has. The loose coils of his uneven haircut occasionally fall in his face, and he’ll absently push them away each time. Mikey isn’t talking nearly as much as he usually does, acting just as vigilant and tense as Raph is in the seat in front of him. Their eldest sibling has his grinning skull holofabric bandana, it’s usually toothily snarling demeanour showing a grim frown instead. Leo pulled his tattoos across his skin a couple miles back, as the Purple Dragon bikers escorting them peeled away, leaving them to disappear into the traffic of the inner city.

April sits between Leo and Mikey once again, fidgeting with how her borrowed vest weighs on her. Her face is the only one remaining exposed in the car, and thus Leo can easily see the slight cracks in her forced calm. He wonders briefly why now, considering the more explosive getaways they’ve made, is when she looks scared instead of fierce.

Leo looks away before she notices him staring. Not that she probably even could tell, given the dizzying markings on his skin. Still, he chooses to aim his gaze out the window, searching automatically the traffic around them for suspicious vehicles. He, again, finds none. There aren’t even any passing drones up above- which is honestly _really_ weird for how close to downtown they are. There should be at least delivery drones flying around, or janitorial ones cleaning the sides of buildings.

Leo looks closer at the streets they’re driving along, rather than at the cars themselves. Donnie and Raph agreed heading to the other side of the city to hide in a hotel is the best plan of action, and are taking them there right now.

Leo spots a man he thought he saw three blocks ago, walking along in a long dark coat with glowing edges. Grey and white. That in itself isn’t weird, since inner city fashion tends to get repetitive with trends people try conforming to, but Leo swears the guy looks _right at them_ as they go by.

He takes a slow breath. It’s probably nothing; he’s just flinching from shadows. No one can tell who they are with the Tank’s camo up and running.

Leo notes a lady sitting at a bus stop, also wearing a long coat, dark green this time with teal edging, is also staring right at them as they pass her.

Just a coincidence. They’re fine, they’re still fine.

Donnie slows the car as they hit a red light, pedestrians starting to cross in large groups. Leo almost doesn’t look at them, but then he spots not one but _two_ people wearing long coats with edging. Once is nothing. Twice is coincidence. Three times, however?

That’s sign of impending fuckery.

“Guys, I think-” Leo starts to say, leaning forwards to point at the man and androgynous individual in dark blue coats with maroon glow on their edges, but loses his train of thought as the two strangers stop in front of their car.

Everyone else notices too late, sitting up in their sits as the coats are flared open and shimmering full-body armor glints in the mid-morning sun, hostile pink light glowing between the interconnecting plates. The expressions on their faces, the people staring them down- Leo knows that kind of expression well.

After all, he spent years perfecting it.

Only one type of people has those kinds of eyes, flinty and sharp.

“Oh _fuck!”_ Donnie curses as the K-tech hitmen charge at them. Fight fire with fire, as the saying goes, right?

It’s the perfect attack spot, the Tank being boxed in by cars around them and their opponents attacking from the only exit. Leo knows without having to look the other hitmen he suspected are coming up behind them as reinforcements. He processes their limited options at a higher speed than almost anyone in the car, neuronerve sparking through his system and kicking up his pulse.

Donnie beats him to a reaction, because not even enhancements can put Leo on level with his twin’s genius.

Donnie floors it, the only viable plan in this disaster in progress. The reinforced metal and glass of the Tank can take just about anything, including souped-up hitmen jumping onto its hood to avoid being run over. Cars scream around their sudden lurch forwards, drivers narrowly avoiding the careening path Donnie is taking.

“Donnie- get rid of them!” Raph bellows as one hitman draws their gun, silver clawed fingers clinging stubbornly to the edge of the hood as they take aim. The man they’re with is drawing his own, eyes coldly blazing as they ready to attempt shattering the windshield.

Donnie yanks the steering wheel left, jerking the car between lanes. The tactic works, knocking off balance the male hitman before he can shoot, sending him flying off the speeding vehicle. It doesn’t work on the other hitman in time, however, and Donnie lets out an oath as the last second blast from the androgynous hitman spiderwebs damage across the windshield.

“What the hell is going on?” Mikey asks tightly as Donnie tries to navigate with the newly impaired view. “How the hell do they know who we are?!”

“I don’t know!” Donnie snaps back. “They shouldn’t- the hologram is _perfect_ , I did maintenance on it literally a day and a half ago, I double-checked everything!”

Leo jumps a little as April sharply gasps; glancing at her in case she’s somehow been injured. She isn’t; she seems like she’s having a terrible epiphany instead.

“Donnie- what does your guys’ car run on?”

“A dual battery system I designed myself; the twin cores have two types of energy that trade off depending on if we need long distance or short bursts of speed. Why?”

“So it’s got a really unique energy signature, then, right?”

Donnie is silent for a moment, and then makes a furious high-pitched noise.

April grimaces. “That’s what I thought. Someone probably got a scan of it at some point. They’ve almost definitely got a lock on our signature- there’s no way we can hide in this.”

Donnie’s hands around the wheel are tight, posture rigid with frustration. “Of all the- of fucking _course_ I missed something. I spent so long on the durability of the parts and refining the conductors that I didn’t fucking think about _radiation concealment!_ Fuck, _FUCK!”_

“We gotta ditch the car,” Leo says, grasping his brother’s shoulder and gripping tight, pulling Donnie’s head back into the present. “Find the closest parking garage and we grab the first one we can- ditch that afterwards and steal another. We want as bland and unnoticeable as possible here.”

Donnie nods stiffly, and drives them towards a towering office building with a large parking complex attached to it. They climb the levels until there’s free spaces, and the moment Donnie parks they’re opening doors and piling out, taking important supplies with them.

None of them give a second glance at the small innocuous steel discs stuck to the wall as they do.

They should have, especially since they once did the same thing.

Leo is grateful, a handful of seconds later, that he chose to activate his neuronerve to take a thorough look around as Donnie focused on finding them a suitable car. It’s only because his awareness is so sped up that he sees the glint of the gun barrel before it fires.

He rapidly puts everything together, and-

“ _MOVE!”_ he screams, and grabs April.

He gets her out of the blast radius, covering her with his body as heat roils over them. The trigger to the bombs set on the wall was a fucking _laser shot._ Indignation boils through Leo, and as he and April start to get up, staggering for better cover, he snaps at the people who set this trap, “You _fuckers!_ You totally copied us!”

None of the many new opponents appearing from the shadows have the decency to own up to their piracy. Leo is so pissed off- that was _their_ assassination plan not even two years ago! He and Donnie spent days formulating the set up and bombs for it!

K-tech isn’t just a world scale evil, it’s a _plagiarizing_ world scale evil.

“Is this really the time?!” April half-shouts at him, glaring as they hide from the laser fire aimed their way. They’re pinned without escape back down to ground level- troops guarding the staircase and ramp both.

“I’m allowed a minute of anger about this!” Leo half-shouts back. Or, he thinks he does. The explosion kind of fucked up his hearing. Everything is a little distant sounding right now.

“ _Guys!”_ Raph yells from across the space, him and the others hiding there as Donnie lays down a risky cover fire with his rifle and Mikey uses his handguns. Raph jabs a finger at his own ear, making Leo confused for a moment, but- oh. Oh, right.

He turns on his comm.

“ _The next time you leave your comm off in the middle of a mission,”_ says Donnie’s drawling monotone, “ _we’re just gonna leave you in the dark.”_

“It’s early!” Leo defends.

“ _You’re a morning person.”_

“Yeah, for _fun_ things, not life or death bullshit-”

“ _Leon, shut up,”_ Raph orders tersely. Leo scowls, but does so. Then he hisses and throws a look at April, whose pointy little fingers just stabbed his arm.

“What?” he asks.

“You guys can’t leave me outta the loop,” April says tersely. “Gimme your comm contact.”

Leo almost refuses- they never talk to anyone but family and a few friends, but- the situation calls for it. He takes her hand and presses her finger to his comm implant by his ear, letting the closed-circuit programming learn her print ID and accept the new contact. It’s the only way to join the link Donnie created for them all.

“So what’s the plan?” April asks immediately after.

“ _The plan is you don’t get shot,”_ Raph replies.

“ _Can we also not get shot?”_ Mikey asks. “ _I don’t like getting shot.”_

_“No one is getting shot,”_ Donnie says.

A laser blast shatters the windshield of the car Leo and April are crouched behind, causing both of them to duck and cover their heads. “Can we have a more _specific_ plan?” Leo asks snappishly.

“ _I suggest distraction, double team, and cover,”_ Donnie says.

Leo licks his lips, pushing down the adrenaline that wants to overwhelm him. The neuronerve’s reach through his body, it sparks and writhes, like the biotech can sense what’s about to happen. “That sounds like a solid plan to me.”

“ _Same here,”_ Raph growls, and in the corner of Leo’s eye he sees red light flare up. “ _Alright, on my mark. One, two-”_

Raph charges out into the open, not bothering with the third number. His hardlight Armor takes the immediate offensive barrage, the flashes of pink laser clashing against it. He yells a war cry as he runs at the assembled troops of hitmen, and as he does, Leo and Mikey move in sync to flank him.

Leo’s perspective of the world slows down, his movements quicker than anyone else’s as he runs. He sees the progression of Mikey’s kusari-fundo through the air, his prosthetic arm without its false skin and sending flames racing along the weapon- the newest of the tricks it’s capable of with Donnie’s upgrades. Raph’s tonfa are reinforced by the hardlight around them as he plows into the ranks of hitmen, cutting the group in halves. Leo’s swords, the only weapons he has that can keep up with him at this speed, give a low whistle as he swings them towards his first target, blades alighting with burning edges.

He slices through the neck of the closest K-tech hitman. Leo feels bone against his swords, shuddering against the metal as it scrapes by. The spray of blood is gradual to Leo, missing him as he moves to the next target, releasing his neuronerve briefly to take a breath.

There’s no fear in the woman’s eyes as she spots him, too close to react in time.

This isn’t personal. It’s never personal. Except, maybe it kinda is this time.

These guys are here to kill April.

Leo really can’t let that happen.

K-tech really should have designed their armor with higher collars, like Donnie designed Leo’s. There’s nothing protecting their throats from his swords, while Leo’s neck (and the neuronerve specifically) have thick materials as guard.

Leo speeds up again, darting to a different side of the fight as Raph knocks another enemy across the floor and Mikey scours burning lines through the air, nicking gunmen who are struggling to keep up with his agility and unusual weaponry. And without missing a single shot he takes, Donnie is picking opponents off one by one from a distance, his steady hand pulling the trigger and scorching holes through people’s heads.

They’re winning, they have a decent chance, just three more and they can grab a new car and get the _fuck_ out of this place-

Leo’s focus is on their human opponents. He doesn’t spot the incoming threat.

Raph does.

It’s the only reason they don’t die right then and there.

Leo feels himself be grabbed around the waist, nearly reacting on instinct to twist and stab his assailant, and his brother doesn’t stop to explain at all, just running for Mikey with his arm outstretched as something silver and neon gleams in the air nearby, speeding towards them with turrets distended and barrels spinning-

The K-tech drone opens fire, concrete exploding and the enemy hitmen getting caught in the blasts. Disposable casualties; K-tech is even more heartless than they’d thought.

Raph’s Armor shudders and glitches, protecting them from the attack as he crouches over Leo and Mikey, but- Leo knows it wasn’t designed for this, drones are heavy artillery, and his eyes go wide as Raph’s eyes are squeezed shut, his gruesome mask showing a pained snarl as he forces his conduits to remain active. The silver implants all up and down the sides of his body are hidden under his clothes, but they must be overheating under the strain, searing into Raph’s muscles as they struggle to support the field of hardlight.

They have seconds to find a solution to this. Or else Raph risks serious damage to his body.

Or, they all just die. There’s that, too.

Thank god they have Donnie around.

As Raph stifles a scream of pain, Armor starting to fail, an explosion rocks the air. The drone’s laser fire stops.

Raph keeps holding his position and Armor anyway, sweat beading his brow as they all wait with baited breath until Donnie’s shaky voice says, “ _We- we got it. We’re good. Raph, you can stop now.”_

The hardlight flickers away and Raph slumps. Leo and Mikey both catch their brother, easing him backwards onto his knees gently as possible. He’s panting raggedly, eyes unfocused, and Leo only glances away because he has to survey their current situation.

All the other hitmen are dead, bodies further destroyed by the explosion of the drone Donnie blew up. How he did it Leo doesn’t know exactly, but from the size of the _ka-BOOM,_ he suspects it’d been one of the limited number of magnetic grenades Donnie still has.

How’d he get that shot, though? Donnie has a decent arm and aim, but does his best with machines as the translator between his skills and their effect. Under the stress of the situation, the pressure to get it right- Leo loves his twin, but how did Donnie not miss?

He looks towards his brother, and finds April standing out in the open nearby, eyes blazing. She has another disc explosive in her other hand, probably for a second try if they’d needed it.

Evidently, they didn’t.

Well… April has one hell of a pitch, then. Leo, a little dazed by relief to be alive, wonders if she’s a good baseball player.

Donnie’s rifle collapses its long barrel, and he stows it across his back as he hurries over to them. Raph, who is struggling to stand even with the support from Mikey and Leo, hisses raggedly as Donnie’s long fingers pull at his sleeves.

“God dammnit,” Donnie says grimly as he tugs up the jacket sleeve, exposing swollen and angry flesh surrounding the implants. “Raph, we need to get coolant on these soon as possible-”

“Think I don’t know that?” Raph rasps. Donnie’s lips purse and he doesn’t bother explaining the treatment required; just reaching to his belt and drawing out an EpiPen. Leo helps hold Raph still, along with Mikey, as Donnie administers the shot to their big brother’s neck. The painkillers and adrenaline in it take visible effect immediately, Raph breathing out a hoarse sigh as his posture straightens from its pained hunch.

It’s not a solution, however. They need to get to a new hideout _yesterday,_ and not just because being exposed like this is suicide. Raph’s conduits need cooldown time, and the burned skin and muscles require treatment soon as possible to avoid infection or further complications later on. Their heaviest hitter and most defensible team member is effectively benched for at least the next few hours, if not the rest of the day. Probably longer.

Mikey is murmuring encouragements to Raph as he temporarily recovers, while Donnie’s mask swaps its eye pairs and continues diagnostic scans of their brother’s condition. Leo turns slightly to beckon their missing member, enlist her help in finding a new getaway car.

Leo’s world slows down as he turns, though not by activating his neuronerve. It’s the horrified lurch of his stomach that does so, watching as a hitman that escaped the barrage from the drone darts out from behind the cars near April, blood all down his silver armor and a knife in hand.

Leo doesn’t have time to plan, doesn’t have time to pace himself so his movements are perfect and controlled. He just _reacts._

He feels his ankle twist as he sprints forwards, ignoring the delayed sharp stab of pain of it as he rushes towards April. She and everyone else is moving in slow motion, arms coming up in hopes to block the knife coming down on her, but she’s spotted the attack too late, her defense won’t be quick enough-

Leo lost his swords when Raph tackled them to the ground, and he doesn’t have time to draw a knife or his much too slow guns. His dive is sloppy, badly aimed, too fast and too risky, but he doesn’t have time to correct, the knife _inches_ from April’s throat-

His shoulder takes the brunt of the impact as he body checks the hitman, and as it does, Leo can feel the sickening agony of his bones grinding and muscles tearing.

The pain of his dislocated shoulder is instantaneous and blinding, hitting him twice over as he and their enemy hit the ground, jarring the throbbing injury and forcing a hoarse noise of pain out of him. His sight is spotty, alternating between bright sparks and patches of darkness. Leo feels the K-tech hitman recovering, twisting to attack him instead, and Leo has to grit his teeth and bite down on a scream as he forces his pain wracked body to _move._

He grabs the arm with the knife, grappling for the weapon at an awkward angle as his opponent tries to get on top of him. He’s successful in drawing up a leg and kicking the hitman away, but cries out as his twisted ankle protests the action, Leo having used it automatically without consideration for the injury.

The hitman looms over him, bloodied and wild eyed, but far more mobile than Leo is. Leo tries to get up, scrambling for some kind of plan to get out of this, but knows he won’t move in time as the knife is turned on him once more.

The K-tech hitman then jerks violently, a blackened hole opening up through his head. He falls to the ground as the sound of the shot echoes in the air, limp and thoroughly dead. Leo dazedly looks towards his brothers, and sees Donnie standing with his rifle’s barrel still dimming. Mikey is the one rushing over to help him up, with April as well, who beats Leo’s brother by a handful of seconds.

“Guys, I think I- _OW, no_ , no no no don’t- _hhhaugh-!”_ Leo blacks out a little from Mikey and April trying to get him on his feet. He comes back what he thinks is just a handful of seconds later.

“Oh, shit- sorry, sorry,” April says quickly, taking her hands away from Leo’s injured shoulder and moving them elsewhere. Even as his awareness falters, he thinks he sees a realization flicker across her face. “Oh god, Leo, you- your shoulder. When you tackled that guy-…”

“Leo? Buddy, bro, look at me,” Mikey instructs firmly. Leo does so, blearily focuses on his brother’s face; the bright orange mask Mikey wears swimming in his vision. “Gimme the run down, here. Where’d you hurt yourself?”

“A- arm, shoulder,” Leo gasps, concentrating hard as he can. “Ankle, too. Think I dislocated… n’ tore somethin’…”

“I _knew_ this would happen,” Donnie hisses as he approaches, Raph trailing behind at a slower pace, though no less worried looking. “You convinced me to take off your limiter and you do exactly what we told you _not to do!”_ Even with his mask still on, Leo can tell Donnie looks like he wants to grab him and throttle him. Leo just manages a weak smile at his twin.

“S’okay, I’m- fffine, I swear,” Leo tries to say, but he doesn’t even believe that himself.

“You’re _benched,_ that’s what you are,” Donnie says, already drawing more medical supplies from his belt. He takes Mikey’s contribution of wrap without acknowledgement, instructing Leo to hold still while they bind his arm to his chest to keep the injury from worsening before they can fix it.

Leo pants and feels sick and almost blacks out a few more times as his arm is bent and bound to his chest. The renewed agony of moving his dislocated and torn shoulder is like pouring gasoline on an already roaring fire. Leo is drenched with sweat and breathless by the end of it. Leaning most of his weight on Mikey’s shoulders, he feels a sharp jab to his neck and then the cool relief of painkillers. No added adrenaline, as usual, since the neuronerve hasn’t ever appreciated that particular stimulant in his system.

“We need a new car,” Donnie is ordering, taking command with Raph and Leo both injured. “Mikey, April, help Leo walk. Raph, you and me are gonna-”

He cuts off as sirens they’d all been ignoring are abruptly close, and Leo doesn’t need Donnie’s fancy goggles to know that they’ve got yet another problem.

“Twenty squad cars on the ground floor and climbing,” Donnie reports immediately, voice tightly stressed. “Fuck- _fuck._ That was our way out, and we’ll never make it on foot unless we get a miracle.”

“How ‘bout a distraction?” Raph says.

Leo’s head is still swirling, but he knows what his brother means right away. Everyone else goes silent as Donnie rounds on their eldest sibling.

“ _No,”_ Donnie utters in a low voice. “Not an option.”

“Don,” Raph says, tone subdued, “you know it’s the _only_ option.”

“We are not _abandoning_ you-!”

“You’re not. I’m staying on my own terms. Now get the fuck outta here so it’s not a worthless sacrifice, okay? No arguments, Donnie,” Raph adds as their brother starts to refuse. Raph tugs down his bandana, scarred lips in a wane smile. “You know what you gotta do. Take care of ‘em, alright?”

Leo wants to tell Raph to stop, that he can’t do this, they _have_ to stay together- but Donnie breaks the beat of silence first, as his fists clench and he hoarsely replies, “Then- you better take care of yourself, too.”

They don’t waste any more time after that, and Leo finds himself being half-carried towards the staircase now left unguarded. He sees the flash of red light begin to glow behind them, the police cars screeching to a halt as they encounter the Armor and it’s utterly determined wearer.

No one speaks as they escape out into the back alley, and steal the next car they can find.

-/-

_“-Take care of ‘em, alright?”_

Raph had glanced right at her as he said that, before looking back to his brother. April, as they continue their subtle as possible journey, is still trying to get her head around that brief eye contact.

Raph meant it not just for Donnie, but for her, too.

A plead to watch out for the others. To watch their backs while he was unable to.

They’ve been scouring the news, searching for any sign of the eldest brother’s fate while they drive in the third stolen car Donnie demanded they switch to. There’ve only been reports of a massive fight in the parkade, listing body counts but not names.

Raph could be among those counted dead. He might not be.

The not knowing makes it all the worse.

April stares out the window, a little numb around the edges as exhaustion settles into her. The happy start to their morning is so far away feeling, now. Was that really just a few hours ago? It’s barely after one, and already it feels like this day has lasted forever.

April is grateful when Donnie finally finds a hotel he deems secure enough. It’s on the rough side, but not so rough that it seems desperate. A balance between people who aren’t entirely legal in their activities, but not so much that they’ll snitch at the first sign they can benefit from it.

That’s the explanation Mikey quietly gives her, anyway. April is starting to develop decent skill at deciphering this different world; her years of playing cat and mouse with the bigwigs of NYC and their trust fund babies being put to a new and interesting use.

At the root of it, criminal activity is criminal activity, whether it’s petty theft and bar fights or sabotaging business rivals and paying for their untimely deaths.

There’s a secretarial droid at the front desk behind reinforced glass. Its unmoving metal face is raised from its computer keyboard as they approach; sans the brothers’ masks and their weapons hid as thoroughly as possible under their coats. April has a coat and hat from the trunk of the car they stole shoved down on her head, hoping the hat’s wide brim of it will conceal her enough they get through this.

“Hello,” greets the droid, voice modulated to be impersonal but pleasant. It regards the four of them without any hint of suspicion, so that means the camograph masks the brothers have are working; preventing the droid’s scanner from reading their real facial features.

April would have liked to have one, too, but she’s had to settle for freeing her hair and shoving it into her face under the stupid hat. The brothers only ever carried enough masks for themselves, it seems, and Raph-

Well. Raph’s camograph is unavailable for borrowing. It was in his belt pouches, not one of the bags they managed to salvage.

“…We’d like a room,” Donnie says smoothly after a pause, moving to lean against the desk. His features are completely different right now; larger nose, honey-brown eyes instead of mahogany-brown, a brush of freckles across his cheeks. “Do you have a double queen available?”

The pale metaled droid is still for a moment, then a little blip comes from it and it replies, “We have three. Do you have a floor preference?”

“Midlevel is preferred.”

“We have one on the fourth floor.”

“Perfect.”

“Cash or credit?”

“Credit.”

While Donnie pays, April glances at Leo and Mikey. Leo passed out on and off all the way here, and even now with the camograph over his real face, he looks bad. They couldn’t stop to do proper treatment for his shoulder, only getting a chance to wrap his ankle in thin gel strips that became cold and stiff once Donnie activated their function. Mikey is supporting his brother as subtly as possible, glancing around without actually moving his head, taking in each person in the room with them.

Between Mikey and April, she’s fairly certain their combined ability to read the intentions of others will give them a heads-up when someone starts to eye them too closely.

Thankfully, no one bothers with them. Leo could pass as someone who’s just intoxicated, hanging off a buddy after one too many. April slips her arm around Donnie’s, keeping close like they planned. When he bends his head to speak with her, it’ll just look like they’re a couple or something. Nothing suspicious here, nope. Nothing at all.

They make it to the room without incident. Cameras they pass will just record a collection of strangers, no extra filters or tricks up their sleeves. Donnie swept the place for its blueprints and security layout before they even set foot outside the car; his last few seconds wearing his double eye mask spent muttering to himself, blue and red sets of eyes shifting seemingly at random.

He’d been tense and twitchy all the way here, and though it’s hidden better now, April has been feeling minute flinches from the hitman. Once he slides the key card through the slot, they all pile into the hotel room with audible sighs of relief.

Leo’s is a bit more pained sounding than everyone else’s. As Mikey helps him sit down on the bed, Leo pulls off his camograph mask and reveals how pale and haggard he is. Donnie drops his coat on a chair, rolling up his sleeves and shoving off the entirety of the complimentary coffee maker and miscellaneous sweeteners from the table next to it. He drops his belt and backpack onto it instead, leaving his weapons by the bag and getting out medical supplies instead.

“Get his shirt off,” he says without emotion, approaching his brothers. Mikey is handed scissors and starts cutting away the wrapping holding Leo’s arm in place. Donnie hands April a bundle of packaged items, telling her, “When I ask for a number, hand me the package marked with it.”

Leo makes a whine as his shirt is cut away, exposing the thick and ugly bruising his shoulder has, as well as the large swelling that’s built up. April’s grip on the packages tightens, eyes going over the injury and feeling ill.

A flash of images goes through her mind, of Alo, of the assassination attempt before the brothers’, of stumbling out of the smoking wreckage of her own home, struggling to carry the dead weight of her bodyguard and caretaker and _only friend-_

“April.”

Donnie’s calm, toneless voice brings her back.

“Number one.”

April’s hand only shakes a little as she gives him the package. It’s another EpiPen, and Donnie injects its contents into Leo’s neck without pause. His brother shivers and groans, eyes going hazier than before. Donnie next asks for number two- a larger package that contains a tube of thick cream. Leo faintly cries as it’s spread over his skin, and April’s eyes widen as she sees his tattoos go completely dark, fading to black. A glance at the faint red lines coming from his neuronerve and she sees those have blackened, too.

The last package is a bite guard. A wad of torn sheets is added as a gag.

Donnie takes hold of Leo’s dislocated arm, Mikey and April instructed to stand opposite and hold him steady. Donnie has his double eyed mask on again, the two sets layered and locked on his brother as they look directly at the muscles and nerves they’re trying to avoid pinching.

“Don’t scream,” Donnie says in a low voice, slowly lifting the semi-responsive arm into position. Leo nods, visibly in pain but pushing through it. “Good. We’ll do it on the count of three. One… two…”

Mikey is holding Leo at his back, wrapped around his brother as much as he can be. April has him by the side and other arm, and she grips Leo’s hand just before it happens.

“Three,” Donnie says in a soft voice, and twists and shoves Leo’s arm back into its joint. Leo bites down hard as he can on his scream, muscles clenching, but even with his pain threshold, mental preparation, and painkillers- his eyes still fill with tears as his arm is popped back into place, muffled sobbing getting through the gag.

“…It’s good, we’re done,” Donnie announces a moment later, finishing a scan of Leo’s shoulder. April’s hand is finally released from Leo’s bruising grip as he reaches to his mouth and pulls out the guard and gag, retching dryly and shuddering. Mikey leans close, shushing and comforting his brother as Leo pants fast and ragged.

April meanwhile backs away, sitting heavily in the chair Donnie dropped his coat on. She slowly removes the hat from her head, pushing her hair from her face and breathing through her lingering panic.

She’s shaking. She’s in shock, probably, just as much as everyone else here.

For a while, as the brothers set up their room, checking the perimeter and getting Leo comfortable, April just… sits there. Breathing.

Some immeasurable length of time later, someone comes to stand in front of her. April raises her head, meeting the hollow grief of Donnie’s eyes.

“…You better fix this,” he says, anger edging his tone. “When this is all over, you better make it worth it.”

A part of April, reactive and instinctive, nearly rails against those demands. However, just a brief glance at Leo’s prone form on one of the beds, Mikey curled with his knees to his chest on the other, gaze aimed away from her and deep worry lacing his features…

And the lack of Raph’s presence, obvious as the day. All of it combined, it sobers the reflexive need to defend herself.

“…I will,” April swears solemnly.

Donnie’s eyes remain on her a long moment longer, bright and hard and scarcely hiding how helpless he must be feeling. Then, he turns away, taking his backpack to the other side of the room and hunkering down beside it. Mikey still won’t look at her, processing the losses they’ve suffered. Leo seems to have passed out; removed from the awkward situation entirely.

April drops her eyes from the brothers, leaning her head back against the wall.

She breathes in, breathes out.

And wonders how many more sacrifices it’ll take before it’s finally all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c


	9. Quiet Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You honestly think we can still pull this off?” she questions.
> 
> “It’s closer to that I know we _have_ to pull this off.” Leo’s relaxed expression changes, an edge appearing to his smile. “It’s do or die, and personally speaking, I’d prefer the former. We’re gonna win ‘cause we have no choice but to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the author supplies a slight bit of closure to what happened last chapter

“Hey, April.”

April opens her eyes, feeling dizzy and achy. She sits up gradually from her slump, feeling muscles twinge and complain as they leave the uncomfortable position.

Oh, she fell asleep without noticing. Guess the past two and a half days have tired her out worse than she thought.

The person who woke her is holding himself gingerly as he sits on the edge of a bed; shirtless, arm in a sling, and his dreadlocks out of their usual ponytail. Leo’s eyes have a clear tiredness to them, but he’s far more alert looking than he was… April glances at the clock on the wall, finding it’s nearly been two hours since they got here.

“Sorry to wake you, I just…” Leo trails off, seeming embarrassed.

April leans forwards, shaking off the wooziness of her unplanned nap. “No, it’s fine. What is it?”

“Could you help me get to the washroom? My ankle…”

“Oh, yeah. ‘course.”

April helps Leo limp into the bathroom of their temporary quarters. She waits outside the door, politely not listening while he does his business. Instead, she looks towards the other two people in the room.

Donnie has taken over one of the beds, curled in a semicircle with his mask on and lengths of electrical cords extending from under his shirt. They’re plugged into the tablet, small laptop, and phone Donnie brought with him, screens bright with activity as Donnie manipulates them with his thoughts. He looks like he’s barely breathing; like his body has almost… gone into sleepmode?

That’s… probably normal? For Donatello, at least.

Mikey is under the blankets of the other bed, eyes closed and breathing deep. The bruise April gave him around his eye is nearly gone, and she absently touches her own face, feeling the faint ache of the fading bruise Mikey had given her in turn.

Even in his sleep, he doesn’t look free of stress.

April doesn’t blame him. In just a short few days, she’s forced them to abandon both their current and childhood homes, their father and sisters, and now, their own brother as another escaped with heavy injuries. All for the sake of keeping her safe.

April wants to live. Wants to beat her aunt and take back the company and get her parents the revenge they _all_ deserve.

But… as the costs of her survival mount, the sicker April feels inside. First Alo, now the brothers- one by one falling as they defend her.

Leo comes out of the bathroom, which is enough to temporarily distract April from her depressing thoughts. Instead of returning to the bed, however, he requests to be taken to the small sitting area in the corner. Two tacky but comfortable chairs around a tiny table. April ends up sitting down across from him once Leo’s settled.

“…So,” Leo says after a bit, “how’s your day been goin’?”

April tilts her head at his light tone. She risks offense and replies, “Well, considerin’ I’m not the one who dislocated my shoulder and twisted my ankle- definitely better than yours, at least.”

Leo doesn’t take the comment the wrong way, laughing instead. “True, true. God, I haven’t fucked up that badly in years. Donnie’s gonna kick my ass for it soon as he stops having a pity party and feeling sorry for me.”

April fidgets, glancing away. Leo spots her avoidance, and scoffs. “Oh, not you, too. I’m fine, dude.”

“…Your shoulder was swelled up like a baseball.”

“And it’s not anymore.”

“You can’t walk.”

“Nothing a crutch can’t fix.”

April gives Leo a deeply incredulous look for his claims. He starts to shrug and then hisses in regret as his injury no doubt prevents him.

April almost wants to tease him for that, maybe call him stupid a couple dozen times for how badly he’s hurt himself, but what comes out instead is, “…You’re out of the fight, Leo. A crutch can’t fix that.”

His bravado falls slightly, and Leo sits back carefully with a sigh. “Yeah, I know. It sucks ass. I… fuck, I honestly dunno what other tricks we have left. After today, we’re gonna have to do a whole new profile on your aunt’s possible next moves. If she’s willing to send out a full-on team of _assassins_ after exposing us all to the media _,_ then I don’t trust her to not try somethin’ the second you show up at the courthouse.”

April nods, stomach in knots. She never gets scared of a fight, she doesn’t let herself- and yet, anxiety prickles under her skin, dully buzzing around her thoughts. It’s her aunt. It’s always been her aunt that she couldn’t overcome, even just in her own thoughts.

April has never admitted it to anyone, but being face to face with her aunt is the single most terrifying experience April can imagine. She’s done it a dozen times and it still shortens her breath, slicks her palms. And the idea of not just _April_ having to be the one facing down her aunt, but also the brothers, who’ve sacrificed so much to get them this far…

Add in the potential tragedy of her getting one or _all_ of the brothers killed, on top of everything else riding on this, and April almost wants to throw up with nerves.

“It’s… never going to stop,” April says quietly, the weight of all the stress she’s compartmentalized through her life threatening to swell up and drag her down. “She’s never gonna stop coming for us… until she has what she wants.”

_Me,_ April doesn’t have to say.

This will stop when April stops resisting. She knows that. She wants to _win,_ but she’s just… always been on the run, on the defensive. She’s been repressing a lot of thoughts that just can’t comprehend an outcome where she actually succeeds against her powerful relatives.

“Or, until we kill her,” Leo says matter-of-factly. “I’ve kinda found that a few holes in the skull or chest is a sure way to get someone to leave you alone for the rest of your life.”

April almost shakes her head, turning the gesture into a tired rotation of her neck. “Maybe. Probably. We’d never get close enough, though, and if we make it to court... she’s gonna have the whole place rigged in her favor, guaranteed.”

“Then we just have to find a way to counter that,” Leo says without missing a beat. His utter seriousness and belief that they’ll figure it out, that they’ll pull a hat trick and turn the tables once again- April has to stare, dumbfounded he still has so much faith.

“You honestly think we can still pull this off?” she questions.

“It’s closer to that I know we _have_ to pull this off.” Leo’s relaxed expression changes, an edge appearing to his smile. “It’s do or die, and personally speaking, I’d prefer the former. We’re gonna win ‘cause we have no choice but to.”

“And what if we don’t win?” April points out, pessimism eating at her. “What if this all goes to shit completely and we _all_ die?”

“…Then I guess we’ll be dead and won’t have to worry about it anymore?”

April’s temper flares, and the urge to smack Leo upside the head for his joking attitude is _strong_. Leo just regards her silent fury with a lazy look, raising an eyebrow.

“What happened with you?” he asks. “Did you like, swap personalities with someone while I was out? ‘cause I’ve only known you literally just two days and I can tell this is outta character for you.”

“ _This_ happened,” April says, jabbing a finger at Leo’s injuries. “Raph- him, freaking- _sacrificing himself._ That happened. My-… Alo, happened.” She shrinks in her chair, miserable and tired.

“You guys happened,” she admits softly.

“How so?” Leo asks, regarding her with a curious look, unbothered by her outburst. April sighs.

“I… I only hired you guys out of desperation,” April says, finding an uneven nail on her fingers and rubbing it. “I didn’t even expect you to actually take the deal, either. I… I was still expecting to die, back then. Still kinda am now. And I didn’t trust you, didn’t like you… an’ then you all turned out to be… yourselves.”

“Is that a good thing?” Leo says wryly. “We don’t have many friends.”

“You’ve got more than I do,” April says bitterly. “The only person I trusted was my bodyguard, and she… I nearly got her killed. Like, she’s the best of the best, and we thought we’d be safe at home, at least… and we weren’t. I almost had to watch her die, and… I. I don’t want to watch you guys die, either.”

They sit in silence after she’s said that, admitting to having ended up attached enough to the four brothers she hired in a desperate gambit to stay alive that she’s sick at the thought of their deaths. It’s abnormal to become so close to people in such a short amount of time, of that April is certain. Just as she’s certain it’s mostly one-sided.

“Well… we don’t wanna watch _you_ die, either,” Leo says, and the sincerity in his voice surprises April. “I’m gonna be honest with you, April. We like you. Like, seriously like you. And we never like anybody. Our family’s… pretty tightly knit. We don’t let anyone in, hardly ever.”

April nods, already aware that she wouldn’t be welcomed deeper into the fold than what they have- being friendly employer and employees. “I know. You guys- you have somethin’ special, I think. I mean, I wouldn’t know for sure, since I kinda… never really got to see normal families.”

“We’re special alright,” Leo says with a chuckle. “Especially crazy, especially messy, especially prone to getting ourselves into stupid situations…” He glances towards his brothers on the beds, and a soft smile graces his features. “…You’re right, though. I do think we have somethin’ special. It’s probably why I couldn’t ever let ‘em go. You know how we all grew up in group homes together, right?”

“Yeah… Mikey told me bits and pieces, and Donnie said some, too.”

“They tell you I almost got adopted a bunch of times?”

April blinks. Leo grins.

“I’m kinda boring compared to my brothers, honestly,” Leo says, still smiling fondly. “I was just… a normal kid no one could take care of. No medical conditions, no horrible tragedy that sent me there- just a baby that my parents probably couldn’t keep. I could’ve had a real home ten different times… and I refused all of ‘em. You know why?”

“…Why?”

Leo raises his uninjured arm, slowly pointing at Donnie nearby. “The first four times I got myself kicked outta a new home, it’s ‘cause of that guy. We were turned in on the same day, the same hour, and slept in the same crib. But that’s not the scary part- we were born in the _same_ hospital, the _same_ day, and only have about five hours between each other.” He huffs. “Donnie is the older one, but I don’t mind. Much.

“So… yeah. Pretty much all of my earliest memories involve him. People kept tryin’ to adopt me, and I’d just run right back to him. Every single time. I’m… I think he was the first person that ever loved me, you know? And I loved him. It was just us two against the world a lot of the time… until we sort of adopted Raph and Mikey into things? You’d never believe it, but Raph used to be _awful_ as a kid. He’d get super pissed off and wreck anything he could get his hands on- no one would hang around him longer than they had to… except Mikey.”

April has to interrupt there, tentatively saying, “Mikey told me he was a scaredy cat as a kid, though. And he really…?”

“Oh he was a scaredy cat, that’s totally true,” Leo confirms. “Except for like, everything he should _actually_ be scared of. He was scared of ghost stories, but would wander outside in the dark no problem. One time he got dared to pet this crazy feral cat out back, and he just let it scratch him up until it was okay with him being close. And, not to be mean or anything, but that’s how it went with Raph, too. Mikey’s always been this… really mellow guy. Raph would tear up the play room and get put in time out, an’ Mikey would just go sit next to him until he was allowed to play again. Raph never got mad at Mike, either, actually. I think they had what me an’ Donnie had. Just… the need to stay with each other? ‘s probably the biggest reason why none of us ever got adopted… We wouldn’t let anyone separate us once we got close.”

“…And your dad took all of you in,” April says, a clench of emotion in her chest. “You wouldn’t leave each other, so he just adopted all of you together.”

“I like to piss him off a lot, but yeah… our dad’s a great guy.” Leo’s expression is so open with his affection for his family; it nearly hurts to look at. “He’s got a past of taking in trouble cases, too. Karai was the kid of a major gang leader, and a lot of people would’ve killed her if they’d gotten their hands on her. And Venus… her parents were big time activists. They organized huge rallies and marches, protests against the government and companies controlling it. Our dad saved her from getting swept up in that media show and swallowed by the system- maybe even from people still lookin’ for ways to make her family pay. He’s this… grumpy, cryptic, lazy old geezer who’ll kick you in the shins under the table so he can win a card game.” Leo laughs, warm and bright. “Don’t ever tell him I said this, but I love him for it. I don’t think anyone else on earth could’a handled us all.”

April’s eyes fill without her consent, too quick to stop. Leo freezes when he sees her tears, looking panicked.

“Oh- oh fuck, April, what’d I say? Shit- I was tryin’a make you feel better, I swear, god please don’t cry. Whatever upset you- I didn’t mean it.”

“No- it’s- I.” April struggles to find the words. She just yanks her glasses off her face and shoves her sleeve against her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You didn’t say anything. I’m just- a mess. A mess that just keeps sucking other people in and messing up their lives, too.”

“What, no. I mean, a little, but that’s not your fault!” Leo says quickly. “You’re just reacting to a situation out of your control. We… None of us blame you for that.”

“…‘We can’t control what’s not ours to control’,” April murmurs. At Leo’s curious look, she explains, “Your little sister, she said that to me.”

“Ah… yeah that sounds like somethin’ Venus would say.” Leo huffs, looking proud. “She’s a smart cookie. She’s gonna go places someday.”

April wipes again at her eyes, nodding. The Hamato household seems to raise only success stories. Karai is a reigning lord over an empire she’s built herself; the brothers are highly skilled hitmen, twice the talent of assassins decades older than them. Their father, who April hasn’t ever heard of- for good reason- is as wily as anyone she’s ever met and conceals far more potential danger than she’d ever want to face. Who Venus will end up being, with legacies like that to follow, hints at greatness.

And what sort of legacy does April have to follow? A family built on corruption and backstabbing, that’s who she’s descended from. Glancing towards the two brothers on the beds, April feels, not for the first time, a twinge of jealousy for them all. The brothers’ lives have been filled with trials she never had to face, but at least… they had each other through it all.

April, meanwhile, has been as good as alone her whole life.

“…Your brother blames me,” she says quietly, and Leo follows her gaze towards Donnie. April gives a rueful smile to the unconscious brother. “I’m the reason you’re hurt and Raph… isn’t here.” She sighs. “To be honest, I don’t resent the blame. I… I’ve hurt a lotta people, just by being alive. I hate that. I _hate it._ ”

April sits back against her chair again, rubbing her temple. She feels Leo regarding her with a look; one she doesn’t have it in her to glance at just yet.

“I’m tired, man,” April confesses, her bones weighing what feels like a thousand pounds. “I’m tired of running, tired of tryin’a survive my own damn family, tired of- of all of this. I’m just plain tired.”

“I can understand why,” Leo says, and April drops her hand to finally look at his face again. He doesn’t look pitying, doesn’t look resentful, but instead… he seems to be neutral. It’s a nice change. April is exhausted from dealing with both expressions for practically her whole life, from the day of her parents’ funeral and onwards.

Leo leans his head against the wing of his chair, loose dreadlocks sliding to hang by his collarbone, a sympathetic smile curling the edges of his mouth. “I might’ve given up a long time ago if I were you, actually. I… try an’ talk a big game, but honestly I really need my family to have my back. Without ‘em, I would’ve been dead years ago. You’re a kickass lady, April, an’ I respect you for how far you’ve managed to get all on your own.”

Every word of those sentences ring true to April, and the last one makes something in her chest quiver, afraid to reach out in return, scared of getting hurt for being vulnerable with someone she’s known for _barely_ two full days.

And yet, like she’d proclaimed back in the brothers’ lair, she trusts Leo. She trusts all of them.

None of that makes any sense, but maybe… April’s life is just bizarre and unusual for it to be true anyway.

“You’re pretty kickass yourself,” she replies, almost feeling shy as she smiles slowly.

“I try,” Leo says, and the smugness in his voice is only partially bravado. Which is good. It means he’s recovering from his injuries, at least mentally and emotionally. “And just so you know,” he adds after, “Donnie… he’s got a lotta issues, and one of them is how badly he’ll handle situations he can’t take a wrench at to fix. His bark’s a lot worse than his bite, I promise. Whatever he said to you, if I know my brother, it was probably convoluted Donnie-speak for somethin’ like, _‘I’m upset and I don’t like what’s happening, please make it stop, because I can’t’._ Or something similar. It’s pretty much the same thing every time one of us gets hurt or something he didn’t prepare for happens.”

April declines to answer, not entirely sure if Leo’s evaluation of his brother’s moods is accurate in this context. She’s not one of their family members, and one of their brothers being _missing_ is much more severe than probably anything the four of them have ever had happen.

Leo probably senses that the conversation’s lull signals the end of that topic, and moves onto the next with a dramatic groan. “ _Anyway,_ onto pressing concerns about people far more intimidating than my bro- we’re still stuck on how the hell we’re getting you into that courthouse tomorrow in one piece. We’re down to two guards and still up against your asshole family- no offense.”

“Literally none taken,” April drawls. “They are _such_ assholes.”

“The assholiest,” Leo agrees solemnly. “Point being, said assholes are gonna do everything in their power to kill you before you set foot inside that building. We need a plan that’ll be functional enough everyone gets out of this alive-ish.”

“I don’t like the ‘ish’ part of that.”

“I don’t either, but we’re not workin’ with a lot here.”

April frowns and shifts in her chair, pulling her legs up and laying them over the armrest, head against the wing as she thinks. “I guess we gotta look at how my aunt’s gonna have it all set up, and then figure out how to load the deck enough we win.”

“You know your aunt better than I do,” Leo comments, “so… soon as we can snag the tablet from Donnie, you wanna start casing the place all over again and help me start planning how not to get you guys killed? You’ll probably have insight on how she’ll react to the hypotheticals.”

April hums and nods, already turning over possibilities in her head. She’s spent this long reading her aunt for the next move she’d made, one more time around probably won’t go any worse than all those other times, right?

Then again, April is likely almost out of nine lives, the way things are going.

“We’re gonna need _so_ much luck to pull this off,” she says grimly, not liking the odds she’s imagining.

“Luck is arbitrary. How about a good hacker instead?”

April blinks at the voice interrupting her and Leo’s talk, and looks towards one of the beds in time to see Donnie sit upright. He takes off his mask, revealing his somewhat less exhausted gaze.

“We could definitely use one’a those,” Leo replies to his brother’s offer.

“You always can,” Donnie says in turn, teasing glint flitting through his eyes for just a split second. Then, he turns a different sort of look on April. She’s surprised that it’s an apologetic one.

“I’m… sorry for snapping at you like that, earlier,” Donnie says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I let the stress get the better of me.”

“O-oh, so you were listenin’, huh?” April remarks, feeling a little embarrassed. _One_ person witnessing her slight breakdown is one thing, but with an eavesdropper added? She’s spent too long around far nastier company to be comfortable with that sort of vulnerability; never mind that the brothers keep coaxing moments like that out of her, time and again.

Donnie nods sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to overhear you guys, but I couldn’t exactly shutdown my hearing. Anything could happen at this point, and we all need to stay ready.”

Mikey, ironically, lets out a loud snore at that moment.

“…The _majority_ of us need to stay ready,” Donnie corrects a beat later.

Leo snorts. April chuckles, muffling the sounds with her hand over her mouth. Donnie tosses a fondly exasperated look at the youngest sibling among them, and the mood that had been lingering is lifted finally.

“I guess you could say Mikey is…” Leo slowly starts smirking, “… _sleeping on the job.”_

There’s a pause of silence, and then Donnie and April both groan.

“ _Leon.”_

“Dude, no.”

“What? There’s at least a _doze_ n ways for things to go wrong right now, and he thinks the _jury_ will _rest_ long enough for him to nap?”

April points a finger at Leo, squinting. “Was that a double pun on our situation?”

Leo grins.

“I rescind my employment of you. Leave. Now.”

Leo gasps dramatically, putting his free hand to his chest. “You’d fire me, just like that? God. It’s like nothing I’ve done for you _mattress_ , then.”

“ _Boo!”_ Donnie cries. “That one was a stretch even for you, Leo.”

“You both just have to be _wet blankets_ about this, huh?” Leo says, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m going to smack you upside the head, injuries or no injuries,” April warns, repressing laughter. “This is the _worst_ time to be making jokes, you know that, right?”

“You think I haven’t _cottoned_ onto that yet? That I’m not com _sheetly_ aware of what’s going on?” Leo replies, looking _so_ proud of himself. “Trust me, I know better than most, that sometimes… you just have to lie in the bed that you’ve made for yourself.”

“ _Augh!”_ Donnie exclaims the same time as April. Leo guffaws at their pun induced misery.

“Now, now, we just have to _spring_ back from what’s happened. The _backboard_ of our general plan is still intact. We’ll just have to add some _cushion_ to our next _throw_ down with our opponents, and make sure we don’t _spread_ ourselves too thin, get a goodnight’s sleep and all that. Otherwise, we’d be the walking _bed._ ”

“Donnie,” April says, “I’m sorry. I have to kill your brother.”

“Please,” Donnie moans, covering his face in despair. “Those weren’t even _good_ puns, god dammnit Leo.”

“What, my lighthearted humor isn’t _comforter_ ing you in this time of crisis?”

“Leo, I’m unadopting you.”

“Dude. You’re literally the worst human alive right now.”

“That’s such a _blanket_ statement to make, April.”

April leans across the table and makes good on her threat to smack Leo upside the head.

-/-

Mikey is awakened by the telltale squawk of Leo getting retribution for something stupid. He stares blearily at the side table between the beds, listening to the commotion his brothers and April have started and considering just going back to sleep.

“My humor is ahead of my time,” Leo sulks somewhere nearby, and Mikey puts an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Your humor is _bad_ , Leon,” Mikey grumbles tiredly. “There’s a difference.”

“Mikey, hey. Sorry… did we wake you?”

“Only kinda. I shouldn’t be sleepin’ right now anyway.”

“We thought at least one of us should get some rest,” Donnie says to him, close enough that he’s probably on the other bed still.

Mikey lifts his arm from his face and sits up, taking in Leo and April in the tall club chairs and Donnie plugged into all his tech. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just grab an M-U pack at some point.”

“Uh, no, no you will not,” Donnie says sternly. “The last thing we need is you hopped up on that shit. Drink coffee like a normal human.”

“But it tastes so _bad.”_

“Get a mocha then, you big baby.”

“Lay off him, Don,” Leo interjects. “You know coffee’s never _bean_ his style of caffeination.” April raises her hand threateningly, and Leo raises his own in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But hey, can’t you let a guy cope how he’s gotta? _So_ much insane shit has happened lately, an’ I don’t even get to participate in the _grande_ finale of this clusterfuck.”

Everyone groans loudly at Leo’s continued puns. Mikey flops backwards again onto his bed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s coping mechanism. Why couldn’t Leo pick the same one as Mikey? Stubborn optimism and art binges are so much less cringe worthy than endless bad jokes and puns.

Then again, if he didn’t fall back on said bad jokes and puns, he wouldn’t be Leo. It’s probably just due to being exposed to his brother for so long, but Mikey has to admit it’s an endearing if ridiculous trait.

“You now have a set limit of _exactly_ ten more puns,” Donnie says, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a false glare at their sibling. “No more, no less.”

Leo smiles beatifically, and says, “And none of you will stop me from _expresso_ ing my sincere attempts to lighten the _brewed?”_

“You’re down to eight, and don’t make me regret allowing you even this much.”

“I wouldn’t _cream_ of it.”

“Seven.”

Mikey rolls out of bed and goes to salvage the coffeemaker, lest Donnie or April start throwing things at Leo.

Donnie didn’t break the thing, thank god, so soon Mikey is able to bring around mugs of crappy complimentary coffee. After that, he sits back against the headboard of his bed and watches the strategy session go down. Despite his need to keep things easy and light, Leo can be and usually is serious through this process. He and Donnie combined have a nine out of ten succession rate with plans, throwing scenarios back and forth as they dissect their opponent’s defenses layer by layer. Mikey is a very in the moment kind of guy, personally speaking. He and Raph work better reacting to a situation’s immediate changes, giving breathing room to their think-tank middle siblings to come up with another plan.

But- Raph isn’t here right now. They still don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alright.

Mikey’s hands tighten around his mug of tea, and he tries not to let worst case scenarios overwhelm his thoughts.

Napkins get scribbled on, coffee is replenished twice, and Donnie’s hardlight screens fill the room with a purple glow he’s got so many popped open. April proves herself again that while she reads as someone who’s a little reckless, she still knows how to lay out decent defense plans. She’s got way more skill at playing defensive than any of them, for obvious reasons. Leo and Donnie compliment her ideas with offense strategies, running through possible plan after possible plan to find the one that’ll get them all out of this intact.

It’d be a lot easier if they had their main muscle and speedster available, but Leo still can’t even get around on his own, and Raph… is missing in action, for now.

Mikey knows (hopes) his oldest brother will be alright. They’ll find out where he ended up once this is all over, and then bring him home. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.

It has to be.

Mikey is done with his third cup of tea and has started folding origami out of crumpled rejected napkin plans by the time something’s decided. It’s nearly midnight and they’re all on edge, but almost all at once the three brainstorming individuals sit back in their seats, sighing.

“Well… I think that’s as close as we’re gonna get to full proof at this point,” Donnie says tonelessly, rubbing his eyes.

Leo, who’d taken another hit of painkillers during the strategy session and is looking a little fuzzy for it, nods vaguely. April blows out a rough sigh and runs a hand through her dark coils, releasing them and letting them bounce back. Donnie turns his head towards Mikey, saying, “You get all that? ‘cause you’re kinda the key here, Miguel.”

“Yeah, I got it all.” Mikey brushes away the origami surrounding his folded legs and hops off the bed. “So. Who wants to help gimme a midnight makeover?”

Mikey does, in the end, manage to snag a couple small M-U patches. He sticks two to the back of his neck, and enjoys the tempered rush they give him. He really does prefer the largest patches, since they last so much longer and basically let him taste color, but the micro sizes will have to do for tonight. With a camograph face, an outfit made up of clothes stolen from the staff locker-room in the hotel, and a shift to his walking gait and tone of voice, Mikey stalks through NYC’s neon nighttime. His hands twitch and his smiles nearly have teeth and the crowds of nocturnal creatures swallow him without a trace.

Being the errand boy isn’t exactly a glamorous job, but he’s damn good at it anyway. He visits all the places he’s been told to, retrieves all the items he’s supposed to, and manages to grab another few hours of sleep before dawn cracks the sky.

When it does so, he’s up again despite his burning eyes and gets ready for his last errand. As he slides his latest disguise’s coat over his shoulders, his arm is tapped. Mikey turns around and meets Donnie’s eyes in the gloom.

His brother smiles ever so slightly. They’re the only two awake right now; Leo passed out again with meds in his system, and April put on mandatory bedrest so she’s at the top of her game today. In their place, Donnie gently pulls Mikey into a hug that’s no doubt intended to be the farewell from everyone.

“Be smart,” Donnie says in a hush, hugging Mikey close. Not _be careful_ , because they’re going to have to throw caution into the wind with this play. This is the time to be _smart,_ not careful.

Mikey isn’t quite either of those things when it comes to his choices, but he wagers his cleverness and agility with see him through well enough to compensate.

“I will be,” he promises anyway, squeezing Donnie tight. He feels the jab of his brother’s artificial spine as he does, though one of his arms only registers the sensation of touching something, not the actual feeling of it.

Donnie leans away, and moves his hands to the sides of Mikey face, touching his lips to Mikey’s forehead for a brief moment. He runs his hands along Mikey’s freshly cut hair, affectionate and worried, and Mikey soaks up the sensations. They steady him, readying him to go it alone from here until they all meet again.

“I’ll see you all soon,” Mikey whispers after a pause, and gives his brother a confident smile. “Don’t be late.”

“We won’t be,” Donnie whispers back, and finally releases Mikey after that. It’s hard to part ways, but it has to be done for this to work.

Later, elsewhere in the city, Mikey approaches an apartment door that has just enough security tech to show the person living here makes decent money. He rings the doorbell, and waits with his hands in his pockets.

The door opens a few minutes later, and a distinctly sleepy man stands in the doorway, squinting at Mikey. “Who’re you?” he asks, running a hand over his buzzed dark scalp. His expression is deeply annoyed. “How’d you even get in here?”

“The front door,” Mikey replies cheekily. Apartment complexes overestimate their locks and sensors.

The man glowers. “It’s too fuckin’ early for this. Look, I got shit to do today, so whatever you wanna say to me, say it and then piss off. I had another hour’a sleep before my alarm.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You get to go right back to bed after this.” Mikey takes off his fedora, borrowed from April, and smiles winningly at the man. “Mr. Troy Roswell, right?”

Troy Roswell shifts uneasily. “Yeah? Who’s askin’.”

“No one anybody should know about,” Mikey replies, and flicks the cap off the injector hidden inside the fedora. Poor Mr. Roswell doesn’t even manage a cry before the needles are in his neck, pushing their clear fluids into his veins and making his eyes roll up into his head.

Mikey catches Troy as he slumps forwards, and glances at the security camera positioned towards him. The lens zooms in and out twice, signalling Donnie has the system well under his control.

Mikey grins, and lets out a small _“hup!”_ as he hefts Troy’s weight onto his shoulder and carries him into the apartment. He kicks the door shut behind himself, and the electronic locks slide into place with audible clicks.

-/-

April is full of nerves as the final hour approaches, and she hates it as much as she hates that her hair is fighting her right now.

“Come _on,”_ she hisses at her coils, wrestling with them still. It’s been nearly ten minutes with just this one pigtail and it’s driving her _crazy._ She redoes the braid leading from her temple to where the elastic will be for the umpteenth time, and bites the hairband on her wrist so she can get it around her fingers.

“Sure you don’t wanna go with like, a bun, or braids, or something a little more…?” Leo trails off without properly finishing.

“Just say ‘mature looking’ and be done with it,” April grits out, adjusting the shape of her pigtail and trying to get it to mimic the other’s perfect circularity.

“You said it, not me.”

“Look, this is… this is the most comfortable style for me, okay? And it’s kinda special.” April drops her hands, leaning towards the bathroom mirror and staring hard at her hair. She thinks she finally got the braids and tails to be symmetrical, thank god.

“How so?” Leo questions from his seat on the closed toilet lid.

“This is how my mom did my hair, the morning before the crash.”

“Oh.”

April stares hard at herself, looking for any cracks in her armor. She finds some around her eyes, in the purse of her lips, and reaches for the makeup Mikey had brought them all. “I like to have them ‘cause it’s like, I dunno… sort of like a ‘fuck you’ to my aunt? I doubt she even notices, but it’s like… she couldn’t take every part of them away from me, you know?”

“I think they look great, April,” Leo says, and April meets his eyes in the mirror for a second. “Prettiest ‘fuck you’ I’ve ever seen, and that’s counting _my_ good looks.”

April scoffs. Leo just winks and grins.

“You sure about the ‘good looks’ part of that sentence?” she teases, careful to not waver with her application of concealer over the bags under her eyes. “You’re lookin’ a little rough right now.”

“Honey, I’d look good in a sack,” Leo says, fluttering his lashes at her. “I can pull off ‘heroically injured’ fantastically. You’re just envious that you can barely compete with all this.”

April rolls her eyes. “You must be pretty popular with the ladies if you’ve got this much ego.”

“Mm, I typically am, yes. Who can resist a face like this?”

“Ha, try me.”

“I’d rather not. I might be mistaken for a roaming tomcat sometimes, but I’ll tell you now, I’m not at all interested in pussies.”

April pauses, putting down the blending foam she’d been using. She turns towards Leo, one eyebrow raised. He raises his own.

“More for me, then,” she replies, and Leo grins widely.

He points at her. “Gay?”

She points at him. “Gay!”

_“Eyyyy,”_ they chorus. April fist bumps Leo, accepting the solidarity.

“Okay, so when this is all over,” Leo says, “we totally have to double-team those A-list parties you’re definitely getting me an’ my bros into. All the really hot actor couples attend those. You snag the girlfriends and I’ll grab the boyfriends.”

“Ooh, joint homewrecking. I’m down for it.”

“ _Less scheming about the gay agenda, more preparing for war,”_ Donnie scolds from outside the bathroom. April and Leo both laugh, and she goes back to applying her war paint for the final showdown.

When she’s put the finishing touches, April examines herself in the mirror. She has tight little braids along her crown to her pigtails, giving the subtle impression of such a royal headdress. The clothes she’s been provided with are on the right side of just expensive enough to impress; the fabric of the suit a rich dark color, which shines green in the right angle of light. The white designs on the ends of the sleeves add a splash of starkness, the geometric sharpness of the stitching like beautiful knives. Their patterns are echoed along the hem of her pant legs, setting the suit apart from the shoe. Her shoes have a slight heel to them, enough that she’s slightly taller but still capable of running if need be. They gleam matte black, and fit like perfection.

April adjusts the white tie around her neck one last time, making sure it’s right down the middle of her pitch-black button up. All in all, she thinks the suit looks decent, and that her bright red glasses frames are chic enough to pass as acceptable accessory. She turns on her heel, looking to Leo for a final opinion.

“Well?” she asks.

Leo lifts his uninjured arm and gives a hearty thumbs up. “You look awesome for someone who had this all thrown together in just a few hours. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“We can only hope,” April remarks morbidly.

Exiting the bathroom, helping Leo along as they do, April finds Donnie running a brush through his close-cut hair a final time before setting it down on the table. His suit is far less decorated than April’s, though it looks great regardless. No one would guess they’d hurried tailored it to his size in the dead of night, the way it’s laid over his leanly muscled physique. It’s a plain black everywhere, broken only by his crisp white shirt and the silver teardrop earrings hanging from his lobes.

He’s applying a camograph mask as they emerge, and once he’s done, Donnie waits until Leo is settled on the bed again to gesture for April to give him a brief fashion show. She obliges, turning slowly and showing each aspect of her outfit.

“The vest isn’t noticeable, good,” Donnie says, eyes moving up and down her body. “It won’t stop a laser blast, but it’ll prevent anyone from take an opportune chance to stab you.”

April drops her arms to her sides, glad that her last line of defense won’t be detected. The better body armor is too bulky for this, and while April is very desperate and determined to survive the next few hours, she still has to play by the rules of her social standing. The heiress to the Kraang Tech corporation can’t show up as anything less than immaculate.

April already misses the comfy clothes she’s been borrowing from the brothers.

“We ready for this?” she asks her loyal bodyguards.

“As we’ll ever be,” Donnie replies. He snaps his fingers at the silent final member of their three man squad to the courthouse, and Mikey obediently rises from the chair he’d been waiting in; identity obscured by camograph like Donnie. A small beep makes them all pause, and Donnie rolls up his sleeve to glance at his concealed wrist computer. “The limo is here. Alright. Everyone knows their parts to play, please try to follow the plan as long as it remains effective.”

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Leo says, giving a salute. Donnie stops briefly by his brother to give him a gentle hug, whispering something April chooses not to overhear. She instead busies herself with mental preparation for what’s about to happen.

“Seeya,” April offers once Donnie and Leo have released each other.

“Seeya,” Leo replies. “You better make it outta this alive, O’Neil. I see a glorious future of me and you taking the high society by storm.”

“I’ll do my best,” April says, because there really isn’t any way for her to guarantee her return, now is there? Leo, knowing that, gives her a final smile of encouragement before she leaves.

April walks out into the hallway with Donnie and Mikey, and breathes through the stress of it all. This is it, this is the endgame. Whatever happens next will decide everything for all of them.

“Let’s go,” Donnie says, and takes lead. April is put between him and Mikey, their still quiet third member watching her back as Donnie forges their path through the hotel lobby. They pass by the milling confused guests, ignoring the small crowd demanding the security officers to explain why the secretary droid is missing and how soon it’ll be before it’s back to fulfill their orders.

There’s a sleek black limo waiting just outside, it’s door opened for her as April steps out into the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [boss level music starts playing]


	10. Storming The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes down to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [BOSS LEVEL MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

The crowds outside the courthouse are enormous.

Donnie knew that April’s coming of age is a big deal to some, but he didn’t, until right now, _really_ understand just how big a deal it is.

There are barricades keeping the public off the grand steps up to the building, hundreds gathered at the guarded wall between them and the stairway. Security is everywhere, drones circling above as police control the situation from strategic points. Donnie notes that each and every one of the officers have the most up to date gear as possible, from their weapons to their shoes. No one, clearly enough, gets in or out without being seen, catalogued, and possibly arrested.

They have very low chances of this turning out well, their every move needing to be _exactly_ as they planned. No pressure or anything.

The limo comes to a stop in front of the courthouse. Donnie meets April’s eyes for a brief second, and sees the steely determination in her gaze.

“Open the door,” she commands quietly, and Donnie nods. He slides on a pair of sunglasses, and opens the door. The noise of the crowd comes over them in a wave, cheers and shouting as he steps out into the day.

Donnie checks all the spots _he’d_ take a sniper shot from, his sunglasses zooming in and doing base level scans. They don’t have enough room in their design to allow for better tech, and it irks him that he can’t just march up the steps in full cowl. Still, the glasses do their job, and he deems it safe enough for April to exit the vehicle.

He steps aside, still holding the door for her, and at the first glimpse of April’s form emerging, the fanatical crowd goes nuts.

April stands with her back straight, lips in a sweet but professional smile as she gazes around. She raises a hand to the people here to witness her ascension to more fortune and power than anyone can dream of, waving as they cry out at her. Every step she takes is practiced and poised, not a hair out of place. She’s acting like who they all thought she really was, before Donnie and his family got to know her.

The untouchable, godlike social figure of the heiress apparent.

Donnie walks at her side, hearing their third member shut the limo door and take the opposite position to him. Together they walk April up the stairs, camera drones flashing from every angle and the overlapping voices of a dozen TV reporters coming from everywhere.

_“Despite everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours-”_

_“-stunning and unbelievable entrance, showing at the last minute-”_

_“-our worst fears have been beaten by our best hopes, April O’Neil-”_

_“-arriving uninjured, smiling brightly, clearly excited to finally take up her family’s legacy after fifteen years following the tragedy of her parents’ deaths-”_

_“-the whole world is watching, holding its breath. This is the beginning of a new era.”_

Donnie swallows, a tad thickly.

The beginning of a new era indeed.

The doors into the building are opened for them, the select few reporters allowed inside to be first to interview her immediately clamoring for attention. Officers hold them back, as April gives an apologetic smile that’s almost angelic, waving as she says, “I’m really sorry, but questions will have to wait until later.”

“ _How did you escape your captors?”_ shouts almost all of the reporters.

“No comment at this time.”

“ _Ms.O’Neil-!”_

Donnie puts a hand on April’s shoulder and walks her deeper inside, keeping a paranoid eye on every person they pass. Mikey on her other side is silent as he scans the individuals facilitating this, sunglasses reflecting as he looks around.

Donnie looks towards the double doors into the courtroom, and for a brief second thinks of everyone they’ve had to leave behind to get this far.

It all comes down to this.

They walk inside.

-/-

April thinks a part of herself has left entirely. The part of herself that’s still stuck in the past, standing barefoot in her pjs and staring in disbelief at the policeman kneeling in front of her.

_“I’m very sorry, Miss O’Neil, but your parents… aren’t coming home.”_

The words had been said gently, but April had shattered from the inside out anyway.

She isn’t glass anymore, however. She’s iron, she’s steel. She’s fire, forging those supports within herself even as the ingrained terror of facing her aunt shrieks in her skull.

The first step into the courtroom is the hardest. The second is like electricity shooting up her limbs. The third nearly falters. The fourth is steady and firm, and all the others following are the same. April walks into the wide room with her head held high and her back stiff, eyes going to the figure in it that she’s never been able to escape the grasp of.

Primera Kraang is turning, her lividly blue eyes locking onto April’s brown ones and going wide. Her mouth drops open in surprise, her thick, vibrantly pink braids slipping out of perfection as she visibly startles, their silver caps ringing against each other. Her nail polish matches her hair color, making those pointed ends stand out and draw April’s eyes unwillingly to them, ghostly sensations of their sharpness against her skin sending goosebumps down her spine.

And yet, April approaches with a smile that’s soft, only just curling her lips. When she’s just a few paces away, she comes to a stop, staring her parents’ murderer right in the eye.

“Hey, auntie,” April says.

“April,” says Primera, looking down her nose. April has her father’s stature, petite and slim. Primera, like April’s mother, is a tall and purposefully intimidating woman. The sleek ankle-length, long-sleeved dress and long fur stole she’s wearing do nothing to disguise how very obviously dangerous she is.

April thinks the other occupants of the room may have stopped breathing. The silence is so oppressive it’s ringing in her ears.

It’s broken by clattering equipment, the designated cameraman for this historic event fumbling with his deactivated drone. “ _Roswell!”_ snaps someone with holoscreens hovering around her hands, and the man hurriedly apologizes in whispers, scrambling to get set up again.

The tension is only slightly lightened, Primera’s eyes still boring holes into April.

“…I’m glad to see you’re alright, niece,” Primera says slowly. _How dare you continue to live,_ says her tone.

“Glad to be alright,” April replies smoothly. _Don’t think you’ll get rid of me that easily,_ says her tone.

“How did you get away?” _How are you not dead?_

“Luck and some friends. I’ll spare you the boring details.” _We outsmarted and overpowered your thugs. Your move._

“How… wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?”

April can feel, in her aunt’s gaze, how very much Primera wants her dead right now. The cheekiness of their distinctly unfunny inside jokes is just raising the level of death threat in her aunt’s eyes.

“If we may proceed,” interjects the judge, raising one eyebrow behind her slim glasses. Her tight blond bun and canny grey eyes make it clear she’s not here for any familial politics spats.

April turns a smile towards her. “Of course, thank you for giving me a chance to be here. I’m sorry about my lateness, sincerely so.”

“Mhm.” The judge’s expression doesn’t shift as she gestures towards the table in front of her stand. “Ms. O’Neil. I believe we’ve all waited long enough. Please step forwards and sign your signature on the designated lines. Ms. Kraang will do the same after, therefore relinquishing her proxy ownership of your parents’ company. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor,” April replies, and ignores how fast her heart is racing as she walks to the table. A fountain pen and just a handful of papers wait for her, and it’s so strange. After all this, after how much of her life has been directly affected and aimed towards this moment, part of her finds the paperwork anticlimactic.

Her hand shakes for a split second as she picks up the pen, and then she breathes in and out. The whirr of the camera drone in the air is the only sound besides the nib’s scratching, leaving elegant black lines in its wake.

April sets down the pen, and stares at her own name written in several little boxes on the pages. One more step. One more step and this is finally all over. She takes a softly shuddering breath as she turns, heart in her throat as her eyes go to Primera’s.

Her aunt’s eyes are ablaze with fury.

April, for all her bravery, for all the training she’s done, for all the mental preparation she’s tried to build up- she still flinches back from the rage there, afraid and small and helpless all over again.

“Ms. Kraang,” says the judge, voice coolly commanding. “You may step forwards and sign the papers.”

Primera doesn’t move, anger pinning April in place as well.

“Ms. Kraang.”

Neither of them move.

“Ms. Kraang. Do not make me repeat myself again. Step forwards and-”

“ _No.”_

Primera, from a hidden holster in her fur stole, pulls out a pistol. “This farce has gone on long enough,” she snarls, the tip of her weapon lighting up. “You should have died with your parents, girl. It would have saved us all a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

The eruption of noise from everyone in the room is distant sounding to April, and she only breaks free of her frozen state as her aunt takes aim.

A lot of things happen all at once.

Primera’s pistol fires, a bolt of energy aimed at the judge’s head. The camera drone that’d been circling them gets in the way, however, and it explodes in place of the judge’s cranium- the lawmaker ducking under her desk before any other attempts on her life can be made.

“My camera!” exclaims Roswell in despair.

April darts out of the line of fire as he aunt turns her weapon back on her, racing for safety and towards Donnie’s beckoning yells. As three of Primera’s security team produces weapons to fire, Donnie produces his own- far swifter to the draw than anyone else. He’d had his staff under his suit’s jacket all along, and its length whips through the air to crack against their enemies’ jaws.

That threat is only one of many, and the biggest of all is still at their backs. April and Donnie both dodge a series of rapidly fired blasts, the carpet getting scorched rather than them. Primera keeps shooting, and the other five members of her security are leaving their posts by the exits, headed straight into the fray.

April finds herself avoiding yet another shot by her aunt, just to whirl around and face the barrel of another gun instead. Her footing is too awkward to avoid it in time, the security officer pulling his trigger and-

A body blocks the blast, and April finds herself staring at the back of Mikey’s suit. He’s hit another three times, jerking at each shot’s impact. The laserfire finally stops after that, and both April and the security officer hold still as smoke drifts up from Mikey’s front.

He remains standing, unmoving.

“What the hell,” says the officer, voice shaking a little as the person who should be _very_ dead stays standing.

April watches as Mikey raises his bowed head, eyes staring blankly forwards through cracked sunglasses.

“How may I help you today?” he says in a voice that’s all wrong, and the hologram cloaking his whole body glitches. The polished metal of a secretarial droid peeks through in places, the watch on its wrist struggling to project the right image with the damage done to its chest.

“What the _hell?!”_

“How may I help you today?” chirps the droid in a pleasant tone, and charges at the stunned security. Somewhere nearby, Donnie lets out a wild cackle as his hastily hacked droid tears into their opponents.

Heat flies past her cheek, and April shrieks and dives away, narrowly escaping death for the millionth time in her life. Wooden railing and chairs are left smoldering as lasers burn dozens of holes in them. April has to keep moving, no cover offered against her aunt’s pistol. Clearly, it’s a much higher caliber of weapon than its size advertises, and if April ever meets the person who designed it, she doesn’t know if she’ll compliment them or slap them.

“Why won’t you just _die_ already?!” Primera screams at her. “Why do you have to keep being a thorn in my side, mocking me with _my sister’s face!”_

“The sister who you _killed!”_ April accuses, still moving.

“She was going to ruin everything our family had built!”

“It’s already ruined itself! You’re all just too corrupt to see it!”

“You don’t know anything! You’re just a spoiled little _brat._ You and your hired thugs- I’ll bury you all so deep down _no one_ will remember who you were!”

“Oh _I’M_ the one with hired thugs?! You hypocritical bitch!”

April pulls up short as a blast whizzes past her face, she’s run out of furniture to hide behind, stuck out in the open as her aunt aims at her. April turns slowly, glaring hard at Primera. Her aunt sneers.

“You’re all out of options, dear niece,” she croons, eyes wicked. “And down to just one bodyguard, too, going by that stupid droid you’ve brought along. What a pity! I do hope that other small one died painfully.”

April glances at something behind her aunt, and shrugs. “Very painfully. I threw up twice while it dragged out.”

Her aunt laughs. “ _Good._ I’m just sorry I can’t make your death as painful. After so many years of your deadweight clinging to this company, you’ll finally have the decency to _really_ live up to that.”

“Sure, good by me. I’m tired of running anyway. One more thing before I die, though.”

Primera raises an eyebrow, gleeful smile slipping a little. “What?”

April flashes her teeth in a grin. “Smile for the camera, auntie.”

“What do y-”

Roswell swings the heavy carrying case of the destroyed camera drone, the back of Primera’s skull taking the full impact. She stumbles, doubling over, and Roswell gets her with a vicious kick to the side. Primera’s limp grip lets him steal her pistol easily.

“Good pun, April,” he says, twirling the weapon in his hands and smiling cheekily. “Leo would be proud.”

“Why thank you,” April says, giving a quick bow.

Roswell snickers, and reaches to his jawline. Grabbing a piece of his skin, he peels away sheer material from his face. It shorts out its false identity as he does and Mikey reveals himself.

“I’m fine over here,” Donnie calls sarcastically, swinging his staff to lay against his shoulder. “Thanks for asking, really.” The knocked-out bodies of Primera’s security laying everywhere, and his creepily glitching droid stands attentively beside him.

“Nice job, Don,” Mikey congratulates, dismantling Primera’s pistol in a few quick movements and tossing the pieces in opposite directions.

“How may I help you today?” says the fake-Mikey, twitching and its voice warping as it struggles to continue functioning with several large holes in its chest.

“And that’s officially a bit creepy. Goodbye,” Donnie says to it, and in a blur of motion, brings his staff around in an arc that takes its head clean off its shoulders. He rips off his camograph mask as he grins, cheering, “And it’s _good_ , folks! A perfect homerun for Donatello of the Mets! What a play, what a _play._ ”

Mikey laughs at Donnie’s antics, lifting his arms and putting them behind his head. “Well, that was fun,” he remarks, and with his back turned, doesn’t notice someone lifting herself off the ground.

“ _Mikey!”_ April shouts in warning, running towards him and her aunt, but she’s too slow in both actions as her aunt slashes at the back of Mikey’s neck with a blade she’d hidden on her person. The sleeves of his shirt tear, and blood arcs in the air as metal against metal shrieks.

Mikey lets out a cry of pain as he jumps away, clutching his bleeding arm with his metal one. His neck is intact at the cost of his arm’s deep gash. Primera chases him, stabbing viciously with her long knife and catching Mikey with a kick to the gut while he’s distracted. He wheezes and falters, leaving himself open to another kick that sends him flying backwards.

Primera spins to face April and Donnie as they charge at her, and April’s heart racing as she remembers another reason she’s always feared her aunt.

Primera, like every other Kraang family member, is her own last line of defense against an enemy. It’s only because April had had her distracted that Mikey briefly got the better of her.

Primera evades Donnie’s long reach, sliding an arm around his staff as it misses its mark and yanking it from his grasp. Donnie- unprepared for how truly _strong_ Primera is- gapes as his weapon is stolen. Primera wields it with little skill, sheathing her knife in a split second and using both hands for the stolen weapon- but the strength behind her blow to April’s sternum is _very_ real. April’s lungs deflate and her feet leave the ground. She hits Donnie with enough force he goes with her- their bodies cracking a table in half and Donnie taking the brunt of the fall.

April woozily drags herself off him, clumsy fingers clutching at his jacket’s lapels. “D- Donnie?” she gasps, tears filling her eyes as it _aches_ to breathe. She sees through cracked glasses that Donnie has turned a very bad color and is twitching, keening as he stutters out-

“My- _ahgh-_ my sp- _spine,”_ he says hoarsely, and April puts together that his implants have been damaged.

Shouting snaps her focus away from him, though, and April turns her head to see Mikey wrestling with Primera for control of his brother’s stolen staff. April’s never seen Mikey so _furious_ looking before, the anger an unfamiliar emotion to see on his face as he opens his mouth and screams in her aunt’s face.

Primera screams right back and gives up attempting to wrench the staff out of Mikey’s grip. She instead spins and _throws him_ through the air, releasing her hold on the staff and sending him into a row of chairs with a loud crash.

Mikey doesn’t move from where he lands.

Primera slowly turns back to April, and April can see the depths of greed driven madness in her blue eyes.

“ _Now,”_ hisses Primera, stalking towards her. Her dress is ripped in half a dozen places, one of her silver braid caps have fallen off, and her fur stole has long since been dropped carelessly to the floor. “Niece of mine… be a good little girl and _hold still while I strangle you.”_

April is frozen inside and out, heart quivering in her chest as she kneels by her fallen friend’s side. A lifetime of terror is trying to swallow her whole, despair of the inevitable drowning her mind.

_This is it. This is the day she finally dies._

April’s hand brushes something solid, and the motion to grip it tightly is only half conscious.

A fire reignites inside her, and April’s determination to _live_ breaks through the conditioning of fear.

“I don’t think you know me all that well, auntie,” April says, standing even as her middle throbs from the staff’s blow. She hefts the broken table leg and slaps it against her palm as she grins fearlessly. “I’ve _never_ been a good little girl.”

The rage in her aunt’s face doesn’t scare her at all.

“You _bitch!”_ Primera howls, and April laughs as they rush each other.

Primera is much taller than her, so April aims for easy targets. Her aunt gasps as her hip bone is hit, and April takes a glancing blow to the head for it- the tips of Primera’s horrid nails scratching her temple and leaving a trail that bleeds. April’s vision swims as she hurries to correct herself, swing an attack at Primera’s oncoming fist. Something _snaps_ in Primera’s wrist, and April bares her teeth as her aunt reels away in pain.

Primera clutches her injured arm to her chest as they stand apart, eyes filled with toxic hate as they start circling from afar. “I never should have let my sister marry! I should never have let her produce such a horrible _offspring!”_

“My mom and dad _loved each other,_ and they loved me!” April cries, blood slipping down her cheek and feeling nothing of her childhood fears. “Something I doubt you could ever understand!”

“I _adored_ my sister,” Primera exclaims shrilly, “but she _betrayed_ me-!”

“So you _murdered her!”_ April screams, heart aching. “You took _everything_ from me, all because you couldn’t stand having less than the billions you already do!”

“And I won’t let you steal that from me! I’ll _die_ before I let you ruin this company like your damn mother would have!”

“I can very well fucking _arrange that,_ ‘cause it’ll be everything you deserve!”

Primera opens her mouth, probably to say more horrible things about April and her sister, but it turns into a wordless scream as a stream of fire erupts through the air- aimed right at her. She falls, clutching at her face and curling on herself.

“Fuck you, lady,” Mikey says hoarsely, wobbling slightly as he holds himself up against a chair. He lowers his sparking prosthetic, sighing as the sprinklers above let out a thick spray of water. He looks despondently at his busted arm, groaning. “Aw man, Donnie’s gonna _kill me._ ”

The water streams down the broken lens of April’s glasses, the chilly wetness seeping through her suit and to her skin. She ignores the sensations and walks towards her kneeling aunt, makeshift bat hanging in her hand,

Primera is crying, and as April approaches she looks up. The right side of her face has been burned, probably blinding her in that eye. Water sluices down both their faces- Primera’s fearful and pained, and April’s blank.

“Please,” Primera whispers. Her ruined skin is bloody and charred, her thick pink braids on that half of her head burned black. “April- I-I’m your auntie. I just wanted what was best for the-”

April doesn’t answer, and the sensation of the table leg against her aunt’s skull shudders up her arms.

Primera crumples, unconscious. April stands over her aunt; staring at Primera’s soaked, bloodied, and beaten body. Her only immediate relative on her mother’s side. Her family, whether she wants that to be true or not.

Her grip on her weapon tightens.

“That’s for them,” April says quietly, and feels a little sick with triumph and defeat both.

The thick doors to the courtroom finally burst open, saw blades whirling from their work of cutting through them to get at the manual release mechanism. Police flood the room, _true_ police from the looks of things, seeing as they don’t immediately start shooting.

“ _On the ground! NOW!”_ yells one at April, aiming their gun. She drops her table leg and kneels with her hands raised, too tired to try and explain what’s just happened. Mikey has his arms up as well, showing a pensive expression. Donnie twitches on the pile of broken wood, but otherwise remains still.

“Wait- wait, officers!”

All eyes whip up to the raised voice, and the frazzled but very much alive judge waves at them.

“They aren’t the criminals here,” she says in a remarkably steady voice, neatly done bun dripping in the still going sprinkler showers. She points at Primera on the floor. “I have just been witness to these three surviving an attempted fratricide by Ms. Kraang there. Arrest _her,_ and give these poor souls medical attention already!”

“But-” The police falters, looking back and forth. “They’re the wanted criminals who kidnapped Ms. O’Neil.”

“No they’re not,” April says, finding voice to speak up. She stands slowly, lowering her arms and facing the wall of guns aimed her with only a slight tremor in herself. “They’re my bodyguards,” she speaks bravely, glancing between the brothers. “This whole thing has been a set up by my aunt to prevent me from taking the company from her.”

The sincerity in her voice and the power she holds sways the opinion of them all. Guns are lowered from her and the brothers, and April and Mikey are quickly taken out of the room as the police cuff Primera and her security team. Donnie is carried out on a stretcher, already conscious enough to protest that. April only meets the eyes of the judge who saw everything go down once before they’re separated, but she sees unwavering strength in those grey irises.

The judge nods at her. April nods back, and vaguely wonders what will happen; now that someone who isn’t the brothers or Alo knows what her aunt has done.

As the paramedics cart her away, the sounds of clamoring crowds and reporters becoming a distant din as the doors of the car shut, April decides she’ll deal with that PR nightmare sometime after she’s not so tempted to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope people enjoyed the plot twists in this chapter, i was pretty proud for thinking those up at like,,, probably 3am or 4am?? idek. i lost so much sleep writing this baby i warped my perception of time.
> 
> guess we find out from here what happens next....


	11. Steps Towards The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay,” April says grudgingly, watching the twins bicker like everyone else is, “so you might be in the right, questionin’ how we’re all alive still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee hee, we're so close to the end now.
> 
> thank you to everyone who's enjoyed this fic thus far! i was honestly so very worried about its reception after its release. it's such a niche and indulgent piece on my part, using a lot of elements i crave from media (and don't receive, bc scifi is ruled by the White Man With Tragic Past and Guns characters). bless all and anyone who hopped happily onto this self-indulgence train with me.

The droll buzz of warning as the thick bars slide away is tolerable today. It means freedom from this increasingly boring place, though some of the guys staying here aren’t too bad to hang with. Hopefully, Franco and the others will keep up with their knitting and embroidery in group crafts. It really helps the time pass by.

“Hold out your arms,” says the warden, keys in his hand to unlock them.

“Nah, I got this.”

Raph twists his wrists _just_ right and snaps the metal easily. As the little broken bits fall to the ground, he shakes out his arms, rubbing where the cuffs had rested.

The warden stares at the broken cuffs on the floor, and then back up at Raph.

Raph grins widely, and chuckles at the pale color the warden turns.

“You… you can go on through,” he says, blinking rapidly. He clears his throat, deepening his tone from its faintness. “Your belongings will be given to you on your way out, and you have a pick up waiting outside.”

“Thanks, dude. Been nice knowin’ you. Let’s stay in touch, huh?”

The warden doesn’t appreciate the joke, but Raph doesn’t let that bother him. He’s just happy to be sprung from the joint, _finally._ And since he is getting out, that probably means they won. It’s a good day all around.

He forgoes dressing in his ratty work clothes, tsking to himself about their state. If he goes outside in these, he’ll look like a crazed madman. He decides staying in his undershirt and orange prison jumper is the better alternative, if just barely.

The faces the desk officers make when they hand over his guns and other weapons are priceless. He buckles the holster for his guns around his shoulders and wraps his belt back around his waist; sliding his tonfas into their slots right after. Satisfactorily armed, he decides to carry the rest of his things stuffed into the small backpack he’s got.

It’s nice to step outside the walls of the prison, free as a bird. The day’s pleasant weather is the perfect backdrop to the sight that greets Raph.

“Yo!” Mikey says loudly, waving his single arm excitedly. He and their other two brothers are standing by a long limo, dressed in classy suits and clearly all still alive.

Well. Leo isn’t standing, but that would make sense with his twisted ankle _and_ formerly dislocated shoulder.

Raph lets out a gleeful yell and meets Mikey halfway up the walk, catching his youngest brother as he launches himself at Raph for a hug. Leaning away, Raph can’t help but smile with all his sharp teeth.

“You’re not dead!” he exclaims.

“Neither are you!” Mikey exclaims right back. They dissolve into laughter like maniacs.

“I love how all of our conversations sound terrible out of context,” Leo comments from his wheelchair.

“I love how you say that like you’re not responsible for at least half of it,” Donnie comments on his comment.

They do a fake little glare thing like the dorks they are, and Raph’s chest is just about bursting with how happy he is. He carries Mikey with him as he hurries over to the twins, Mikey cackling against his neck as Raph stoops to hug Leo, too.

“Oh my god don’t drop him on me I’m _delicate,”_ Leo says in a rush, cringing as Raph bends over him.

“I’m not gonna drop him, idiot,” Raph huffs. Leo grumbles that he’s not so sure about that, but returns the hug anyway. He’s still got an arm in a sling, but a one-armed hug is something they’re all familiar with.

Raph puts down Mikey as he steps away from Leo, turning to his last little brother. Donnie regards him with an unreadable gaze, having not moved at all to greet Raph.

“Hey, Donnie,” Raph says gently, knowing already what’s going on in that big brain of Donnie’s.

“…If you ever pull something like that again,” Donnie says in a slow, tight voice. He takes a breath. “…I’ll kill you myself, and leave a new animatronic stuffie on your grave every day.”

“Heh heh… Yeah, uh, I’ll try and not,” Raph says, internally shuddering at the threat. Moving stuffed animals. _Talking_ stuffed animals. It just ain’t right.

Donnie keeps glaring at him for a moment, and then his expression cracks a little and he ducks his head, thrusting out his arms in a silent demand for a hug. Raph gives it to him easy as breathing.

“Sorry I worried ya,” Raph apologizes, holding Donnie tight.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again,” his brother hisses in a wavering voice. “I refuse to be the only one managing those two. You’re not _allowed_ to die and leave me with them.”

“Hey,” Mikey and Leo chorus, but don’t protest further. They all speak Donnie-ese. They all know what he really means.

Raph pats his brother’s back, tears prickling his eyes. He’d been so scared that he’d never see them again, or worse, see only two or _one_ of them again.

“Missed you, too,” he says, and laughs at the light punch to the ribs Donnie gives him.

-/-

“So where’d April go?” Raph asks a bit later, once they’re all in the limo and driving along the arcing bridges of the inner city. “She didn’t feel like welcomin’ me back?”

“Nah, dude. She wanted to be here,” Mikey promises, reaching the short distance between them and patting Raph’s knee.

“The time just overlapped with another reunion,” Donnie explains from the other side of the backseat, sorting quietly through a few holoscreens floating around him.

“With who?” Raph asks. He’d thought everyone April cared about was dead.

Leo, who’s next to Donnie and leaning on his good arm against the window, is the one who answers. “She said it was someone named Alo,” he says, eyes on the swirling neon lights of skyscrapers they pass.

Raph doesn’t remember any mention of an ‘Alo’, but then again a _lot_ was going on and he figures April’s business is her own. She is the one footing the bill for all their amenities from now on, after all.

“Well, anyway,” he says, sitting back against the leather of his seat, “I can’t wait to find out what custom underwear feels like.”

Donnie lifts his eyes from his screens, giving a bland look. “ _Ewww,_ Raph,” Leo says, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t _talk_ about ‘em.”

“I’ll give you a spoiler,” Mikey says with a grin, snickering. “It’s _so_ comfy, it really does cradle your-”

“ _Mikey,”_ Leo scolds, reacting predictably to Mikey’s purposeful goading. Their youngest brother snickers louder. Donnie sighs at them all.

Raph barks a laugh at Leo’s distaste, happy to be back among his brothers at last.

-/-

The noise of the jet’s engine dies slowly; the cacophony of its landing receding as it finally comes to a stop. The wind blusters across the airfield, teasing the loose sleeves of April’s blouse. Its silky fabric is cool against her skin because of that, but she’s far too warm inside to feel it.

The stairway is wheeled over to the plane’s door, which opens as it docks. Stewardesses hurry out first, carrying small suitcases. There’s a brief moment of stillness from inside, and April’s breath gets caught in her throat, even though logically, she _knows_ -

A figure emerges from the plane, struggling with a pair of crutches and looking truly annoyed. That expression of frustration evaporates, however, the second their eyes meet.

April can’t stay where she is, waiting another eternity for her bodyguard to reach the bottom of the stairs. She runs over without further hesitation, much to the distress of her security team as they hurry to follow.

They meet halfway up and down the stairs, and April throws her arms around Alopex’s waist, tearing up with relief to have her bodyguard back.

“Oh, _kid,_ ” Alopex says, dropping her crutches and clutching April back. The older woman’s chin comes to rest on top of April’s head, breath tickling her scalp as Alopex sighs. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad _you’re_ okay, too,” April says, a tad thickly. Her stylist will kill her if she messes up her makeup, but she can’t bring herself to care right now.

“All your bones intact? No concussions?”

“No, Alo. Just a lotta bruises.”

“Good.”

Alopex pinches April’s ear. April squeaks and Alopex leans back to hold both sides of her face, glaring _hard_ at April. She shrinks meekly, knowing what’s coming.

“I am _beyond_ pissed with you, kid,” Alopex says tersely, squishing April’s cheeks. “You drug me and ship me out of the country? And then pick up _hitmen_ as your new bodyguards? Did you _want_ to die?”

“No! I just didn’t want you to get hurt anymore!” April exclaims. “And the brothers- they went above and beyond to keep me safe, I swear.”

“I’ll be the judge of _that_ ,” Alopex mutters. She finally releases April’s face, grabbing the railing of the stairway instead to hold herself up. “And I can take care of myself, kid. A broken leg and a bit of shrapnel is nothing.”

April gets a flash of how Alopex had looked after the bomb went off, her leg pinned under a fallen chunk of wall and blood seeping through her clothes. April shakes her head, both in denial of Alopex’s claim and to clear her mind of those images.

“I won’t apologize. They would’ve killed you if you’d been here, and I- I couldn’t… lose you, too.” April swallows around the lump in her throat, imagining if she lost the last piece of her original family. She doesn’t know if she could have handled having another funeral like that, standing over the grave of someone who might as well be a second mother to April. A much sterner and no-nonsense mother, whose caring methods tended to be gruff hugs and critiques of fighting stance, but a maternal figure nonetheless.

“And how do you think _I_ would feel,” Alopex says in a low voice, “if I had to wake up one day and see your death on every news station?”

“…I’d be dead, so. The only thing I’d care about is that you weren’t, too.”

Alopex shakes her head despairingly, sighing. “I _want_ to be mad about that answer, but I’d be a hypocrite if I said I wouldn’t think the same thing if we were switched.”

April smiles at her bodyguard. Alopex huffs at her, expression fondly exasperated as the wind ruffles her short hair.

“Alright, I’m done being mushy. Pick up my crutches and help me off this damn thing already; we’re too exposed here.”

April laughs and does so, helping Alopex down the stairs with her cast covered leg and happily enduring the grumpy muttering of her bodyguard.

-/-

Mikey stares at the woman in front of him. He tilts his head one way, and then the other.

“Huh,” he says. He points at her. “You remind me a lot of my sister for some reason.”

Minae “Alopex” Noji stares back at him, unblinking. He’s already read her file; a _very lengthy_ rep sheet from past employment in multiple crime families, then the military after taking a plea at seventeen, _then_ working as Black Ops for a few years- rounding her up to be about thirty-one the day she was assigned to protect April, age two days old at the time.

She’s got hair even shorter than Mikey’s big sister, downright militant in its style for obvious reasons. The grey streaking that black hair, plus her intense and quiet demeanour, overall give Mikey the impression that Ms. Noji hasn’t lived as long as she has just by luck. He’s definitely getting the vibe of holding his hand over a bear trap, not entirely sure if it’s been disabled or not.

Ms. Noji looks to April at her side, and says in perfect monotone, “I don’t know how you’re alive.”

“Hey now,” Mikey says, crossing his arm over his silky satin covered chest. It would be a more effective gesture of defense if he had his prosthetic; right now he mostly looks like he’s hugging himself.

Ms. Noji glances at his fur lined housecoat sleeves and the hot towel turban he’s fashioned (with help from Raph). She raises one eyebrow. “Sincerely speaking,” she says, again in monotone, “I _really_ don’t know how any of you are alive.”

“Wow, rude much,” Leo says from the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table and spreaders between his painted toes. He’s still whingeing and whining enough Mikey ended up painting said toes for him, since Leo is still Not Allowed to move around with his ankle and shoulder.

“I don’t know how we’re alive, either,” Raph comments, not seeming to notice Leo’s betrayed look. “I mean, I totally expected to get shot in the head at some point there.”

“Honestly, I expected you to die, too,” Donnie says, lost in his cloud of hardlight screens. He pushes one aside to aim a glare at Raph. “By which I mean I was already practicing a speech to bitch out your gravestone with, on top of the animatronics.”

“Donnie, you _know_ I wanna be cremated and spread around central park.”

“Gravestone, clump of trees - same difference to me.”

Ms. Noji looks like she couldn’t be more let down than she is right now. Mikey figures this means she’ll either be great friends with Karai and Shini, or there’ll be a very silent battle royal for dominance with _glares_ the first time they all meet.

He nearly laughs. Not many people can give his sister or her wife a run for their money like that.

“They’re more capable than you’d think, Alo,” April reassures her bodyguard, touching Ms. Noji’s arm. April turns a look on Mikey, and it’s such a deeply grateful expression that he kind of feels embarrassed. “I mean… they really came through for me. For all of us.”

“And you really came through for us, dude,” Mikey says, winking at her. He gestures widely with his new favorite housecoat for effect, the sleeve swinging. “We’re all together, we look _great,_ and we almost got out of this with every limb intact. I think that’s gotta be at _least_ an eight out of ten.”

“Seven,” Donnie corrects, sparing one last look at the world before he returns to whatever he’s been hurriedly coding lately. “We lost the lair, Mikey. We lost my _lab.”_

Leo gives their brother a solemn look. “And we sympathize with your pain, we promise.”

“Bruh,” April says, scoffing a little, “I can just buy you a brand new laboratory. An entire _university science department_ if you want.”

Donnie sighs long-sufferingly. “None of you understand. It was _my_ lab, one that I built with my own two hands. I had projects in there I’d been working on since I was a preteen. My _life’s story- lost forever.”_

“Oh, Donnie,” April says, immediately looking upset. “I’m so-”

“He’s just mad his extremely niche porn collection went up in flames.”

Donnie whips a pillow at Leo’s face so fast no one can react in time- least of all Leo, whose neuronerve is still shutdown.

Raph, who is much happier now that he’s been showered and given fresh bespoke comfy clothes, rolls his eyes at the twins and chuckles. Mikey already knew exactly why Donnie was upset- he hadn’t _said_ anything, since Donnie’s wrath is a scary thing, but he maybe, possible, _potentially_ hinted it to Leo a few times… just so something like this might happen.

It probably would have been better that it happened in the privacy of the four of them, _but._ Ms. Noji’s expression is pretty priceless. Mikey kind of wonders how long before she gets fed up and hits someone with one of her crutches.

“Okay,” April says grudgingly, watching the twins bicker like everyone else is, “so you might be in the right, questionin’ how we’re all alive still.”

“ _I’m injured, you bitch!”_

 _“Oh get over yourself- I had_ spinal surgery _this week!”_

_“Your spine is metal, it doesn’t count!”_

_“Your injuries are your own fault,_ they _don’t count!”_

“It’s nice to be home,” Raph says in a content voice, expression calm and happy.

Mikey slides around to April’s other side and puts his arm across her shoulders, hugging her and shooting Ms. Noji a grin. “Welcome to the fam, Alo,” he says brightly.

Ms. Noji gives the arm Mikey has around her charge the same kind of look someone would give a piece of gum under their heel.

“Alo,” April says gently, sensing her bodyguard’s reaction, reaching out for the woman’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I know they’re a bit unusual, but… they’re good people.”

“We’re just an acquired taste of friend,” Mikey adds helpfully.

Ms. Noji looks dubious of both statements. “You’ve known them less than a week. I wouldn’t say that’s a long enough time to judge their characters. Full offense, Michelangelo.”

“None taken,” Mikey says easily. “We’re weird, we get it. But you’re gonna get on like a house on fire with my sis fyi.”

“…No.”

“Definitely gonna get along.”

“Alo, please,” April says again, giving begging eyes. “It’s- it’s kinda insane, but what we went through _was_ insane. I don’t think I can really explain it, but Mikey, his brothers… they grew on me.”

“An’ you grew on us, girl,” Mikey says warmly, hugging her shoulders tighter. “Like mold.”

“I was going for something a little more poetic there, Mike.”

“Mold is one of the most diverse types of fungi on the planet, an’ it grows just about everywhere. I think that somethin’ that determined and tough to get rid of is a great way to describe how we gonna be from here out.” Mikey feels bubbly and happy inside as he finishes off with, “You could bleach us all you want, April, but the second you turn away we’re gonna come right back.”

“Aw, Mikey. That is the sweetest and weirdest metaphor I have ever heard. Thank you.”

Mikey happily takes the proper hug April gives him then. In the background, Leo and Donnie’s fight has dwindled to quiet snide comments and Raph has probably gone back to catnapping in his corner of the huge couch this apartment has. Ms. Noji sighs loudly, shaking her head.

“Whatever,” she mutters tiredly. “At this point, this might as well happen.”

“That’s the spirit,” Mikey cheers, reaching out from his hug with April to pat the bodyguard’s bicep. Ms. Noji give his hand a long look before glancing back up at him very slowly.

“Touch me again,” she says in a controlled voice, “and you will be eating that hand.”

Mikey takes away his hand. “Duly noted, ma’am.”

“You’d like our sister,” Leo comments from the couch, stuck in a gentle wrestling match with Donnie (who, being someone with a somewhat delicate condition in early life, knows how to roughhouse without hurting someone).

Ms. Noji just sighs loudly again in response. Mikey thinks they’re already off to a great start with their friendship.

-/-

“You know? I could really get used to a view like this.”

Donnie hums into his sweet drink, lowering it to look out across the view Leo is talking about. His brother is right; the city looks completely different from so high up. The neon canopy of the inner city is a webbing of light, twining around the towering skyscrapers in an ever shifting fashion.

“With all the systematic poverty and extortion blurred out, it almost looks beautiful,” Donnie remarks.

“Yeah, yeah, capitalism is evil and only the rich benefit from it- need I remind you we _are_ rich people now?” Leo juts his hip, quirking an eyebrow as he crosses his arms- or, tries to. The sling his still healing arm is in disrupts the gesture.

“We’re good rich people,” Donnie says.

“We literally killed people to get this far.”

“Only people who deserved it.”

“And we got paid for killing.”

“Details.”

Leo scoffs. Donnie sticks his tongue out at his brother. Leo does it right back.

“I hear conversation you probably shouldn’t be having at my party,” says an amused voice, and April comes to stand with them on the small balcony outside the ballroom. “Gentlemen. Glad you’re having fun out here, but don’t forget we only _just_ gave you new lives and are trying to not blow that cover, m’kay?”

“And don’t you forget I helped make those new lives,” Donnie says, smirking. It hadn’t been hard, using K-tech’s vast resources, to craft whole new documents for him and his brothers. Far as anyone knew, they were framed as the hitmen the news claimed they were, and anyone who disagreed was quietly and quickly… taken care of. “I quite like the detail us all having met you when we were kids.”

“Why else would I trust you to keep me safe?” April says, eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “Old childhood friends who have a pristine record in military forces. I couldn’t be safer than with people like that, right?”

“Right,” Leo drawls. “Not that that isn’t a heap of steaming bullshit.”

“Of course not. It’s completely true.”

“Truer than true.”

“I’m just glad we’re not wanted anymore,” Donnie says, sipping his drink and rolling his eyes at their snickering.

“Same here,” Leo sighs. “It was makin’ it _really_ hard to go anywhere. Thanks again for fixin’ that, April.”

“Anytime,” she replies. She glances at them up and down appreciatively. “And I see you’re both takin’ full advantage of having credit cards that charge to my bank account, huh?”

“Can you blame us?” Leo says, stepping back and spinning on his heel, making the tails of his suit flare out. It’s made from a deep blue fabric with paler blue designs across it, reminiscent of an early 1900’s suit style. And Leo’s dreadlocks have silver metal ring cuffs dotting them, some with brilliant blue jewels. The look is barely disrupted by the black sling his bad arm has. “You went and got us hooked on couture, an’ now I don’t think I’m gonna wear anything else for the rest of my life.”

“And you look smokin’ in it, Leo,” April compliments, giggling as Leo strikes a pose. “But watch the ankle and your shoulder, okay? It’s only been like, two weeks, and don’t think I missed you takin’ advil with that last drink.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leo sniffs.

April tsks at him. “Anyway. You look good, too, Donnie. I like the sleeves, very dramatic.”

Donnie lifts an arm, showing off the ruffles that spill from the ends of his wide sleeves. The fabric of his jacket is a deep purple, while the shirt underneath is such a pale lavender it could be mistaken for white. The black onyx broach that glints on his collarbone, pinned to a violet ascot, was a last minute addition, but perfectly complements the high collars of his shirt and jacket both. “Thank you. I wanted to have heels, but I couldn’t.”

“Your implants still bothering you?” April inquires sympathetically.

“He spent the whole fitting bitching about it,” Leo says, tone implying how annoyed he’d been at the time. Donnie swings his extended arm towards his twin, who narrowly dodges the smack to the shoulder.

Donnie huffs, fingers tightening around the thin stem of his glass. “The hospitals Orthopedics ward is in _sore_ need of a review, ‘cause I have had to recalibrate my implants _myself_ three times already.”

“You say that like you didn’t have fun giving yourself upgrades.”

Donnie swipes at Leo, who just laughs and dodges a second time.

“Just lemme know if you need anything, Donnie,” April says, easily tolerating their mild heckling of each other. “You can order whatever tech you want, all expenses paid.”

“April, I don’t know if I’ve told you this,” Donnie says in a serious voice, “but you’re my favorite now and forever.”

Leo snickers. “Careful, Don. You’re gonna drool on the floor if you think about your new tech toys too much.”

Donnie manages to land a solid jab to Leo’s bicep, ignoring Leo’s whine at getting the retaliation _he_ provoked. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you mock me. I’m gonna go dance with Venus, who doesn’t make fun of hardworking geniuses who’ve saved your ass at least three dozen times, _Leonard._ ” He hands April his glass, and stalks inside with his sleeves flaring, hiding a smile on his lips as April and Leo’s laughter follows him.

-/-

“I’m probably gonna find a robot snake or something in my bed tomorrow,” Leo remarks wryly. “So worth it, though.”

April giggles at the two brothers. All four of them, their dynamics have yet to get old for her to see in action. Their new positions as her permanent bodyguards, and _friends,_ somehow, still makes her want to pinch herself sometimes. A part of her that’s been conditioned by the social environment she grew up in can’t believe it. That the brothers and their family are going to stick around despite not having to, and have welcomed her into their fold.

It’s strange to have more people than just Alopex to care about. It’s strange to have more people than just Alopex care about _April._

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of it, but maybe… she can get used to it being normal.

Leo plucks Donnie’s mostly empty glass from her hand and downs it. He shudders, expression screwing up. “Oh my _god_ how does he drink this,” Leo gasps, staring at the martini glass. “That’s like getting punched in the face with fruit and alcohol, and not in a good way.”

“I think he’s part bee,” April muses.

“What makes you say that?” Leo questions, sniffing the glass suspiciously.

“’cause he likes sweets so much, and… he works with _bee_ nary code a lot?”

“…Oh my god.”

April grins. Leo looks delighted. “That was an atrocious pun. I love it,” Leo says. “And you’re right, my bro does tend to get _abuzz_ about new gadgets, and a _pollened_ by tech that’s not up to his standards. And! And he’s always a bit _stung_ if you don’t give him lots of encouragement after he _bee_ veals a new project, since even though he’s so talented he still needs people to _bee_ lieve in him and all his _comb_ ined dreams.”

April has to cover her face as she snorts and giggles at Leo’s wordplay. “Okay, okay,” she wheezes, trying to compose herself. “I’ll _bee_ sure to give him a _hive_ -five next time, since I don’t want to _bumble_ with our friendship, ‘cause I’ve been trying to _wing it_ best I could.”

When Raph comes out onto the balcony looking for them, his red dress sweeping out in the wind, April and Leo are still wheezing against the railing with laughter. The second eldest Hamato sibling gives them both a weirded-out look, but then seems to figure out what’s happened.

“You two are at the biggest party of the year, _your_ late birthday party, April,” he says in mock disapproval, “and you’re standing out here making _puns?”_

“Better _bee_ lieve it,” Leo gasps.

“Ohmygod,” April says breathlessly, “we’ve used that one too many times, enough, enough.”

Raph’s hair bounces as he shakes his head, his usual braids taken out for the party’s occasion and groomed into a handsome coily mane. “I almost regret coming out to check on you two.”

“You know you love us,” Leo says, winking.

Raph sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yes, ‘course I do. Don’t make keepin’ tabs on you any easier.”

April’s stomach flips around a little, warm and fluttery, while Leo protests, “We’re plenty responsible! We don’t even set the kitchen on fire.”

“The fact that that’s a measurement of how responsible you are says some things about everyone else.”

“Go talk to the pyromaniacs inside if you want that to stop.”

“You and I both know I couldn’t win that argument with Mikey, let alone Donnie, dad, _and_ Karai.”

April is stuck giggling helplessly while the two brothers banter and poke at each other until Leo wanders back inside. She’s not used to feeling so- so _happy_ all the time. The fact that both Leo and Raph had counted her into the description of Raph _loving_ them- not just Leo, _them,_ her and him together- boggles her mind.

The brothers, their family- despite everything they’ve been through, despite what their careers have been, they care and show affection so easily. Vulnerability is so simple around them, it’s natural as breathing. They’ve only known each other for such a short amount of time, and yet, when Raph comes to lean against the railing next to her, April is completely comfortable with being so close their arms press against one another.

“…So,” Raph starts.

“So,” April mimics.

“How’re you holdin’ up?”

It’s the same question they’ve all asked of her at least twice, and same as every time, April sighs loudly and feels exhausted all over again. Raph chuckles, nudging her with his elbow. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” April says without any bite, “I’ve barely started to actually believe this all happened.”

“Rough.”

“Not really, actually. I think I’m gonna start yoga, maybe fund a couple hundred charities and volunteer with each of them. Shave my head, drink kale smoothies every day. Jog in the mornings and nurse sick puppies back to health every night.”

“Wow, really?”

“Fuck no. I’m just tryin’a keep getting out of bed every day to deal with corporate bullshit and find a good therapist sooner than later. I have a _fuck ton_ of baggage to sort out.”

Raph laughs, but not in a way that sounds like he’s mocking her pain. His side hug further dispels the kneejerk thought that he’d make fun of what she’s been through.

“This is probably the wrong advice, but breaking shit always makes me an’ my bros feel better,” Raph offers kindly, hugging her tighter before taking his strong arm away. April ends up leaning against him to stay close.

“I can’t in these heels, but later, _please,”_ April says pitifully, missing comfy clothes and stolen sneakers dearly.

“Well, I know _how_ to do it in these heels, but personally I also prefer to not,” Raph admits, shrugging and making April’s head on his bicep shift, possibly messing up her hair a little. April doesn’t really care; she’s richer than anyone else on earth. _She_ gets to decide what’s acceptable at an upper society party.

“Your heels are nice, by the way,” April says, glancing down at the tips of the black stilettos peeking out from under Raph’s floor length dress. “Like, _all_ of you look fantastic. I’m honestly kinda jealous.”

Raph’s dress covers most of his body, the red chiffon skirt brilliant and eye-catching. The neckline is a shallow upside-down triangle, and is where the delicate maroon lace begins. That’s what his long sleeves and high collar are made of, distracting from the silvery implants and scars along his arms. The garnet earrings that frame his face bring it all together.

He grins, the expression sweet and sharp at the same time with his canines on display for the entire world to see. “Thanks, I’m pretty sure this is the first dress Raph didn’t have to spend like, weeks in advance altering. They never come in my exact size, you know?”

“Well, that won’t ever happen to you again,” April promises, more than happy to swear by another favor to Raph or any of his family. She’s never had anyone to give to other than Alo, and nothing she ever gives them could repay the debt of saving her life, and then _staying_ in it afterwards.

“I look forwards to bein’ the biggest _and_ hottest guy in the room.”

“I feel like Leo might try and contest you for the latter.”

“Ha, he can _try._ Though, you’re givin’ me a run for my money right now, girl. You look good in gold, and a dress.”

“Oh, thanks.” April smooths her own floor length dress, feeling a tad bashful. It’s flashier than anything she’s worn in years; bright and royal, the A-line of its design accentuating her slim figure. She’s got diamonds nestled around her neck, and wrapped around her wrist and fingers in chains. For the first time in a good while… April’s hair is without its pigtails in public, and done instead in dozens of intricate little braids that twine together into a braid which brushes the side of her neck.

Raph gives her a measured look for some reason, and then gives answer to that look with his next words.

“Donnie an’ Leo were messing around with photos of you over the years, when we were all getting fitted. They mentioned you haven’t worn a single dress since you were like, five or something. You… okay with me askin’ why you did tonight?”

“It’s okay, you can ask,” April replies, voice getting soft at the end. Raph waits patiently for her to speak again, and she’s grateful for the interlude to just breathe in the cool night air. “…Honestly? At first it was just ‘cause Alo put me in suits, ‘cause it’s easier to run in them. And it was always a little bit of that, even when I got older and better at dodging assassination attempts. Then it sort of became…” She stops, struggling with the hesitation to keep her weak points to herself.

Raph’s silent, supportive presence doesn’t waver. He just waits for her, and part of April knows if she said she didn’t want to finish explaining, he’d let her stop.

That’s probably why she can let out a sigh and finish. “Dresses felt vulnerable,” April admits, eyes to the edges of her golden-yellow gown. “I felt like an even bigger target in them, an’ I just… never felt safe enough to get past that.”

“…But you do, now,” Raph says quietly.

April nods. She does, she does feel safe enough. Her aunt is about to be transferred to a maximum security facility, at the end of her trial for her long list of crimes, and April isn’t alone anymore. She has the four brothers and all the rest of her family. With Alo and everyone else at her side… April thinks she’ll be alright, moving forwards with her life.

And because of that, she feels safe enough to walk into a highly publicized and potentially dangerous party, wearing nothing but a satin dress with a small pistol strapped to her leg under its folds.

Raph hugs her again, which is utterly welcome and easily returned.

It’s a jolt of music getting louder inside that finally draws them out of their little bubble. As they come apart, they both take in the scene of Donnie swinging his enthusiastic dancing partner around the center of the room. Venus’s cyan hanfu sleeves flare as she’s spun, her shrieks of glee at the wild dancing audible even from afar. The disturbed and startled expressions of the other guests are similarly visible even from afar.

April smiles warmly, laughing. “If it’s at all possible to get kicked out of my own party, I think those two are gonna accomplish it.”

“And tryin’a reel them in will be completely pointless,” Raph remarks. “Which, in that case-” He offers her a hand. “Fancy a dance, boss lady?”

April takes his hand with the utmost propriety, stifling a giggle. “I would be honored.”

Now that she’s irrefutably the most powerful CEO in the world, April is having _so much fun_ doing basically whatever the hell she wants. Setting the collective chaos of the Hamato family onto the richest and most influential individuals in society is- in a word- fucking _hilarious._

Raph isn’t half bad at dancing, either, and they make a decent effort to move in time with each other and the music. Compared to Venus and Donnie, their dancing is practically a waltz. The second eldest son and youngest daughter are going at it with utter abandon, giggling as they do. April notes that some of the younger or more adventurous partygoers are starting to join in, finding partners and breaking from the rigid formality that tends to control events like this.

But that was during the era of Primera Kraang’s rule. Now it’s April O’Neil’s turn and she says- _let there be_ dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we see the others' outfits too, don't worry. and with this one posted, i think we're into the last two-ish chapters? huh. it's felt like ages since i started this fic and now.... it's almost come to a close. also: the name i gave alopex is the name of the actress who played her in tmnt 2012/played the karai of the first bayverse movie. alo really deserved a name, after all.
> 
> and tho i've been getting asks about this so i might as well confirm here, too- i'll be poking at some prequel oneshots at some point for this au! i like this au a lot, and apparently other people do to! keep an eye on my profile for those prequel-sequels.


	12. A Waltz Concludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is every birthday like this for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg.... this is the second to last chapter? already?? gosh. i'm kinda sad to hit the end of my own story.

It’s entirely hilarious that once the dancing has petered off and everyone returned to mingling, April and Raph find Donnie a little bit afterwards…

…standing in front of a petite older woman, looking like a startled cat.

Raph makes an _“eep!”_ sound and flinches all over. April glances up at him, somewhat alarmed by the reaction. “What?” she asks.

Raph tightly whispers in reply, “You remember how we mentioned that one time we pissed off the gang we used to work for?”

April stares at him in confusion, and then has a lightbulb moment.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked for-?”

“ _Yeah.”_

“And you stole fr-”

“ _SHHH,_ don’t say that when she’s _right th-”_

“Oh, _Raphael!_ Aren’t you just squiggley-tiffic in that dress.”

April glances back at one of her personally invited party guests, meeting the almost predatory gaze of Big Mama. The woman smiles at both her and Raph. “You grew up so splendifically,” Big Mama purrs dangerously, eyes narrow behind her rimless glasses. “And it’s just been _so long_ since we saw each other, isn’t it?”

Raph squeaks.

April pushes her thin gold framed glasses up her nose, stepping in to take control of the situation. “Mama,” she addresses politely, as she’s been told to for years, “I’m very glad you made it. I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight.”

Big Mama coos at her, stepping close so quick the tails of her coat flap in the air. “ _April,”_ she exclaims, offering her hand to April, who takes it and is prepared for the woman to clasp her with both hands. “You’re all grown up already, how time flit-skitters away, hm? Just yesterday you were an igglybitty babe.”

April laughs, holding back how awkward she wants to act and using every ounce of her social etiquette to get through this. “It’s been a long road to get here,” she says, which is definitely true.

“Oh, those teenage years do feel like they last forever,” Big Mama says sympathetically. “Becoming an adult is such a sweetly-weetly reward, isn’t it?” Her eyes move back to Raph, glinting. “Getting to choose the company you keep is certainly one of those rewards… though I have some bittle brittle critiques of _your_ company, deary dearling.”

“It’s like you said, Mama,” April says with polite but pointed words. “I get to choose who I keep company with, no one else. It’s good that you’ve already met my friends- they’ve told me only a little about you so far.”

Big Mama’s expression seems like it wants to twist into a nasty one, but she smooths its wrinkles with a smile. “Now have they? Nothing ickily _gossipy_ , I hope.”

“I make it a point not to indulge in gossip. The only opinions of people I want to be aware of are my own.”

Big Mama clearly has caught onto April’s subtle warnings, pinning her with a dissatisfied gaze. _How dare you get between me and my prey,_ she’s silently projecting. April smiles and silently projects in turn, _Don’t even think about trying to hurt them._

They stare each other down for a long moment, during which April feels people assembling around them as their hands remained joined and eyes locked. Big Mama’s hulking bodyguards standing behind her, the brothers quietly sliding into position around April, and from the side of their standoff comes clicking heels.

“Hello,” says Karai’s cool voice. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

April and Big Mama both break from their staring contest, looking to the other gang leader in the room. Karai and Shinigami stand with their arms linked, acting as though neither of them is paying the tension any mind. Big Mama zeros in on Karai especially, smile becoming tight.

“Karai,” Big Mama says.

“Big Mama,” Karai replies.

“Lovely to see you again,” Shinigami says, tone like silk and smile like a half-drawn blade. Karai’s gold eyes are cold and challenging, and between the empires April and Karai control, the threat they present as a united front- Big Mama backs down.

“Abso-fruityloofy lovely to see you, too,” Big Mama says in an even voice, and releases April’s hands. She smiles at them all in a completely transparent manner, saying, “I believe I see an old friend of mine across the room. Ciao-ciao, darlings.”

And with those odd parting statements, she saunters away with her bodyguards in tow, headed for some other poor guest. April watches her go, briefly distracted by the rich purple of her outfit, a thought niggling at her brain.

“…Holy shit,” Leo says under his breath. He glances at his twin with wide eyes. “I can’t believe Donnie dressed almost exactly like one of our worst enemies.”

Donnie makes a funny noise, wordless. April smacks her fist into her palm, looking his suit over and seeing the uncanny similarities. “Oh my god, Leo’s right. You basically wore the same thing.”

“ _Ha!”_ Mikey cackles. “Oh that’s so unfortunate. Like, _dude.”_

“I need to burn my suit,” Donnie says in a deeply disturbed voice. “Right now.”

“Let’s put that on hold,” Raph advises quickly, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We can do that soon as were somewhere you won’t get arrested for public indecency.”

“April would pay my bail,” Donnie says fervently.

“I would,” April admits. Raph shoots her a look that says _Stop encouraging him._ April resists the urge to laugh.

“Okay so-” Mikey swirls to be right in front of April, his vibrant orange dress swishing around his legs, its skirt and his glittery makeup catching the light, “-Donnie’s fashion faux pas is _besides_ the point, ‘cause honestly I just wanna know why Big Mama is here in the first place.”

April blinks. “Uh, ‘cause I invited her?”

“Yes, but _why?”_ Mikey exclaims, clasping his hands and making his gold bangles jangle against each other. April briefly notes how nice the strapless dress makes his shoulders look, scars and vitiligo on full display for the evening, sweetheart neckline working great for him.

“I’m wonderin’ that, too,” Donnie mutters darkly, hands on his eyes and obviously despairing about his suit still. Raph pats him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“How could you invite our old boss, April?” Leo says in a wounded tone, dramatics imminent if she doesn’t fix this.

“You guys never told me _which_ gang you used to work for, how was I supposed to know?” April just about throws her hands up, a little peeved for the blame. “And besides, Big Mama is a long time… business partner, to K-tech. I couldn’t just _not_ invite her to my birthday party; she owns half the hotels in New York, and-”

“Runs multiple criminal enterprises out of them,” Donnie interjects, “including NYC’s underground fighting rings and major drug trade. Which, as it happens, Raph and Leo both used to _work for_.”

“I didn’t know!”

Mikey shakes his head. “We gotta work on our communication skills,” he says, clicking his tongue.

“Well,” Karai says dryly, taking over the conversation with a single word, “as entertaining as it is to watch you five squabble about this, I think what we’ve got to say is a bit more important.”

“What is it?” April asks with a sigh, grateful for the eldest Hamato steering their topic away from her accidental screw up.

Before Karai or Shinigami can speak, the sudden uptick in the room’s chatter distracts them all. April glances towards the other side of the room and sees her huge birthday cake being wheeled in. All eyes turn to her, applause starting up. April gives the wives both an apologetic glance, and puts on her best high society smile as she walks towards the cake.

The chorus of _“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you-”_ accompanies her as she approaches the multitier confection. Sparklers in the place of candles fizzle and pop merrily, shining over the brown and gold of the cake’s fondant. April feels her smile becoming genuine, anticipation bubbling up in her about celebrating a birthday with _friends_ for the first time ever, sharing this cake with them-

One of the kitchen staff steps in front of her abruptly, and April stops short.

“Nobody move!” he yells, showing a device in his hand that has blinking lights. “There’s a bomb in this room and if anyone even _thinks_ about calling the police, I’ll blow us all to bits!”

Screams and cries of terror sweep through the room, guests panicking immediately. April just blows out a harsh gust of air and snaps, “Oh for fuck’s sake. Even at my birthday party?”

“Scum like you doesn’t deserve birthday parties!” shouts the bomber, and April mentally categorizes him among the fanatical protesters against her company- who have mostly quieted down, now that she’s upped wages and benefits and put a full stop to production of weapons. Except, apparently, _this_ fanatical protestor. He opens his mouth, probably to continue ranting about how horrible she is, but a platter to the side of his head cuts him off.

April seizes her chance as he reels from the flying serving ware, spinning in a swift kick and forcing him to double over completely. She grabs his head and knees him in the face, ignoring the crack of his nose and the spurting blood that stains her dress. As he falls, she waits until he’s stopped moving to step around and reach down to his lax hand, plucking the detonator from it.

April huffs, scowling at her ruined dress. And she’d been hoping tonight would be different than all her past birthdays.

“I’ll deal with this,” Donnie says, appearing beside her and taking the detonator. It’s disassembled so quickly she almost misses it, and he drops the pieces onto the groaning would-be bomber.

“Thanks, and who threw the platter?”

“Shini did.”

“ _Thank you!”_ April calls to the woman, waving. Shinigami smiles and waves back excitedly, breaking her character of being aloof and mysterious. April chuckles, then glancing down at the bomber. “Well. Now we just have to find the actual bomb.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Donnie says, waving a hand. He goes up to the cake and punches his hand into its side.

April blinks, a little disbelieving this is actually happening. But, no, it really is. Donnie pulls his hand back out, his sleeve’s ruffles coated in icing and crumbs. He’s holding the bomb in that hand.

April takes a couple hasty steps backwards, hearing the rest of the room gasp and start to panic all over again.

Donnie just tsks at the metal device with blinking lights on its surface, flicking his other hand and producing a tool from somewhere in his deep sleeve. “Poor form,” he says, popping the casing off the bomb. The tangle of wires inside are frighteningly complicated, but he just hums as he selects a yellow one and tugs it out. “It wasn’t even welded shut. Talk about shitty craftsmanship.”

“H-how did you know it’d be there?” April asks, still a little stunned.

Donnie shrugs. “It’s where _I_ would put it, so.”

Donnie’s semi-super villain tendencies almost draw an inappropriate giggle from April, but she catches the glint of a gun’s barrel in the crowd around them.

“ _Down!”_ April shouts, and tackles Donnie as the gun goes off. It’s one of the types that still use bullets and she hears glass shattering somewhere nearby. God dammnit, that’d be the windows surrounding the ballroom. She’s totally not getting back the deposit she put on this place.

“Thanks,” Donnie grunts from under her weight.

“Sorry about your back.”

“I’ll live.”

April glances up at the sound of something hitting the floor with a loud thud, and sees Raph standing over a thoroughly unconscious woman with his fist raised. Judging from his annoyed expression, he’d probably only had to hit her once, and is viewing the whole exchange of violence as just an inconvenience.

He looks over towards them, and says, “I recognize her, I think. She’s a hitman we met upstate about two years ago.”

“She with this guy?” April asks, getting off of poor Donnie and helping him up.

“Nah. Lone wolf type. I think someone just double-booked your death tonight.”

“Wonderful,” April starts to grumble, and then a flurry of activity explodes in the room.

It starts with three figures covered head to toe in black armor busting through the windows- if it wasn’t ruined before, April’s deposit certainly is now- followed by _five_ people rushing out of the elevator’s doors, dressed in _silver_ body armor- definitely K-tech hitmen, _again-_ and then _those_ attackers are followed by a male guest drawing double handguns, one of the waiters kicking over a table to grab a massive rifle, and a female guest’s arms _splitting into two_ and becoming _bladed weapons._

“Why is your life like this?” Donnie asks despairingly. He flicks the worst of the cake off his sleeve and produces his staff, extending it to its full length and lighting the tips up with electricity.

“I wonder that sometimes, too,” April replies tightly, shoving her dress skirt up and grabbing her pistol off her leg. “I think my relatives weren’t happy I didn’t invite them to the party. Or that I cut off most of their royalties from the company.”

“Oh, you _think?”_ Donnie snarks.

“Just shut up and help me kick some ass.”

It’s a bit of a mess from there, especially with frantic (kind of) innocent guests running around and interfering with the fight. When April gets through this chaos, her security is _so_ fired.

Thank god for the brothers and their family, and Alo, too. April spots her lifelong bodyguard beating one of the K-tech hitman over the head with her crutches, doing a decent job of subduing him despite her injuries. And just as April is glancing that way, she sees a swarm of her other serving staff descend on the hitmen- the way they’re fighting brutally and efficiently tipping April off immediately about who they are. The staff of Iron Heel have yet to disappoint her, and they aren’t starting now, taking down the other four hitmen in the blink of an eye.

On the other side of the room, Mikey’s orange dress is a flare of color against the black of his opponents, kusari-gama whisking in the air and yanking guns out of hands. He’s not alone, either, in his efforts to repel the attackers. Venus is darting quick as a whip, using her hair accessories like they’re _knives_ , her speed and small size making her a difficult target to hit- which goes the same for Yoshi, who is _laughing_ as he trips up a black armored assassin and flips them onto the ground to be kicked in the head. Actually, all three of those Hamatos are laughing while they fight, and April can safely say they are _definitely_ family.

April and Donnie end up heading for one of the three lone attackers, the same time as Raph. The eldest Hamato brother is shouting the words, “ _Of course you can’t fight- you only just unfucked your damn shoulder!”_ over the noise of everything as he charges in, leaving a pissed off Leo in the throngs of the panicking crowd.

April fires off a couple shots at the assassin with twin handguns, hitting him in the shoulder before he can do more raise his weapons. Donnie steps in from there, staff whistling through the air before it connects with the wounded assassin’s head. He crumples like wet paper.

April remembers- as a chandelier above is destroyed- that the false waiter had a large semi-automatic weapon, and they’ll all stand no chance of survival if they get a chance to use it. She and Donnie get separated as they all dive for cover, broken crystals raining down on them like broken ice shards, and April finds herself hiding behind a table with Raph.

“You can skip my b-day invite next year,” Raph says, blowing a muss of coils out of his face.

“I think I’ll just skip my birthday all together,” April replies, breathless. A rush of violet fabric then shoots past them, and it takes her a second to realize that was _Shinigami,_ headed straight towards the still firing rifle.

“Shini!” Raph yells, almost jumping out from behind their hiding spot. April grabs the back of his dress just in time to stop him, but not before both their heads come up enough to see what’s happening.

Shinigami, contrary to April’s vivid imaginings of her bleeding out on the floor, is dancing between the tables and completely avoiding being hit. Her voluminous organza dress flows around her movements like water, graceful as ever despite the situation- like a fighting fish in full regalia as she snatches up forks and knives and throws them.

Her aim is true, despite the onslaught of offensive fire. Shinigami’s attacks result in red stains spreading across their enemy’s clothes, each one larger than the last. The waiter is panicking worse and worse as Shinigami closes in on them, and totally doesn’t notice a large plate being thrown at them from the side.

It’s a bit comical, honestly, that the waiter-hitman is taken out by a plate covered in the remains of jello. Shinigami’s flowing method of attack then comes to stop and she dives onto the hitman with a deadly speed, dress hiding what exactly she does to them as they start screaming.

“ _YES!”_ Leo shouts, responsible for the plate being thrown, his sling hanging empty around his neck. Then he winces visibly, likely having strained his shoulder _again._

“Huh,” April manages, a bit frazzled as she and Raph hold onto each other. Then a sword nearly takes off both their heads and they duck away with simultaneous screams.

“Get out of the way!” Karai orders, duelling the four-armed sword-arm woman with her singular blade. The black metal of its segments gleam in the lights above, slashing just as fast as the four prosthetic ones are; Karai’s suit and the woman’s gown both sporting gashes across their fabric.

April doesn’t need to be told twice, getting a safe distance with Raph and raising her laser pistol to aim. The two women are locked in such ferocious battle, however, that she can’t get a clear shot.

“I can’t shoot!” April exclaims. “I’ll hit your sister!”

“I got this,” Raph says, and cracks his knuckles. He grabs one of the tables near them and throws it, all the fine china and glassware that’d been on it hitting the ground with a crash.

Karai and the four-armed assassin both turn to look at the oncoming table with wide eyes, and Raph’s sister only just manages to dodge out of the way. The lady with swords for hands, however, gets squashed flat with an odd cut off yelp. April and Karai both look towards Raph with incredulous expressions.

“What?” Raph says, gesturing at the assassin-table pancake. “It fixed the problem!”

“…I don’t know what I expected,” Karai says in a very Older Sibling sort of tone, clicking a button on her sword’s hilt and collapsing its length. April meanwhile is still a little speechless, honestly.

“Okay, so when _Leo_ uses a plate to take someone out, it’s fine. But when _Raph_ uses a table, suddenly it’s weird?”

“I don’t even know where to start with that sentence,” April says.

“How about ‘thank you’?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

-/-

“Is every birthday like this for you?” Venus asks a little while later, swinging her legs as she sits on a table that April’s been leaning against. Her hanfu’s elegant white embroidery is speckled with blood in a few places, especially its wide sleeves, but otherwise speaking she looks basically untouched. She’s even done her long hair back up into its bun, once more hiding her slim needles disguised as hair accessories.

April sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Just about,” she admits, opening her eyes and gazing around at the police swarming the ballroom. “My eighth birthday, I think, went alright. Except… except the fact that Alo had to beat up a chef before he could poison the food.”

Venus looks at her curiously “How come you keep having them, then?”

April shrugs. “Because people expect me to.”

“How come?”

“Because.”

“But _why?”_

“Because dumb adult stuff, okay?”

“You admit it’s dumb, so you probably already know you should stop having them.”

April pauses, lips pursing.

“I’m guessing you do this ‘cause of stupid social expectations,” Venus continues, and April winces. “Which is a bunch’a nonsense. My family always says I shouldn’t let anyone tell me how to be or act, an’ anyone who tries to can fuck off.”

April lets out a startled laugh. “Excuse your mouth, kiddo. I don’t think you’re s’pposed to be saying that yet.”

“No one ‘round but you to hear,” Venus reasons, swinging her legs again and grinning.

“Do not be so certain, daughter of mine,” Yoshi chides, appearing spookily out of nowhere on April’s other side. She restrains herself before she can jump in surprise, but she can’t quite stop the startled noise that escapes.

Yoshi gives the same mischievous grin all his kids seem to have, folding his arms contently in their dark burgundy sleeves. The kimono he’s wearing is more maturely styled than Venus’s hanfu, suitable for an older individual with its rich, dark reds and browns. He’s much less wild seeming than when they first met, beard groomed and hair up in a tidy bun, but his vibe of unpredictability still shines through that.

“Hi, dad,” Venus greets, unbothered by his appearance or him overhearing her cussing.

“Hello, cyan child. April.”

“Yoshi,” she replies. “You okay after all that? You guys took on some pretty heavily armed enemies.”

“Eh, they were mediocre,” Yoshi says dismissively. “They could not even stop a half trained little girl from shanking them. If I were their employer, I would have been very disappointed in the wasting of my money.”

“They were _so_ sloppy and slow,” Venus adds haughtily. “I could’ve done that with one arm behind my back.”

The superiority in her tone is amusing, but April really has to wonder about the young prodigy. Honestly, if Venus _had_ taken them with one arm behind her back, April would only be somewhat surprised. After all, she’d had Mikey and her dad helping. Between three of them, their opponents never stood a chance.

“I’m just glad none of us got shot,” April says, watching as the assassin who’d gotten up close and personal with a table is taken out on a gurney. Almost all of the attackers have been taken away, now, and it’s just the stragglers left.

All the party guests are gone, too, which April is largely relieved by. She’ll probably spend the next few weeks apologizing, re-strengthening business relationships, dealing with the PR nightmare of this all…

All at once, she’s absolute exhausted. It’s like the night directly after taking down her aunt, where April had lied down in bed and just. Stopped. She hadn’t gotten up again for almost eleven hours.

A gentle hand is laid on her arm, and April looks over to meet Yoshi’s gaze.

“I would not blame you for wanting to get out of this place,” he says, patting her arm. “There are few things more annoying than nosy cops and unnecessary _paperwork_.”

April knows the paperwork all too well. She’s been avoiding said paperwork for the past few minutes, hiding over with Venus rather than speaking to the impatient police captain overseeing things. She realizes, then, that the thought of talking to more people after all that makes her want to curl up under the tablecloth and never come out. She’s used up all her energy to deal with people she has to act like _the K-tech Heiress_ around.

“Did you have somewhere in mind?” April questions.

Yoshi and Venus both smile at her.

-/-

“I am never getting into a car _he_ is driving, ever again,” Alopex swears empathetically, glaring daggers at Donnie as they all pile out of the car. “ _Never_ again.”

Donnie grins, swinging his keys on his finger. “I’ll try and keep it under 150, next time.”

“ _Never. Again,”_ Alopex repeats. April pats her bodyguard gently on the back, trying to smooth her raised hackles.

“Your loss. Not everyone can appreciate my level of skill.”

“Dee, you’re a madman behind the wheel,” Mikey says as he flounces by, dress bright even in the dark. “Just admit it and stop pretending you’re anything close to a good driver.”

“I agree with the orange one,” Alopex says flatly.

“You wound me, all of you.”

“Don’t worry, Donnie,” April says, shooting him a smile. “I _love_ your driving.” She ignores the scathing look Alopex gives her, probably for endorsing, once again, her exposure to dangerous endeavours.

But, it’s _technically_ April’s birthday, even if it’s just her party day, so she gets birthday girl exemption from disapproving motherly bodyguards. So, April continues to ignore Alopex’s glares and just helps get out her crutches.

Everyone else has arrived, too, and April catches the flash of Raph’s red dress through a bit of the curtains in a window, the sound of Leo complaining about something beyond the open door. Yoshi, Karai, and Shinigami are all still on the front steps, talking about something April can’t hear from afar. Whatever it is, they finish up the conversation just as she gets close.

Yoshi shuffles back into the house, vaguely muttering a goodbye, and the two wives turn to leave as well. April stops the same time as them, face to face again for the first time since the start of the party’s disaster spree.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re both alright. I’m sorry things got so out of hand back there- it’s usually just _one_ person trying to ruin the party,” April jokes, a tad sheepish.

Karai waves her apologies off. “It’s over and done. Can we have a minute with you? We’re just about to leave, but we wanted to speak in private.”

“Sure,” April agrees. The two brothers with them take their cue to head inside, but it takes a couple moments to convince Alopex to follow. _You can watch from the window inside, I’m barely a few feet from the door, I’ll be_ fine, _Alo_.

“So what’d you wanna talk about?” April asks, soon as everyone’s gone in.

“Same thing everyone else has been,” Karai says with a slight smirk. “Your impressively chaotic party.”

“Yyyyeah, I’m still sorry about all that. I wanted you guys to have a good time, but, well. People still hate me enough to hire killers, I guess.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” Shinigami says, tittering. “It was the most entertaining birthday we’ve ever been to. I quite enjoyed myself.”

“And that’s what we were trying to tell you, before all that,” Karai says. Then she frowns a little, saying, “I mean, about something else. About your party crashers. We brought a couple of our staff with us when we arrived, and they came back with reports about _multiple_ people in the room poised to kill you.”

“We didn’t know about the ones of the roof, though,” Shinigami says, looking thoughtful. “They had some sort of cloak over their signatures and weaponry. We’re already having that looked into for countermeasures.”

“Well, thanks for trying to warn me, even if it ended up being too late,” April says wryly. “I’ve already fired my entire security team for the whole thing.”

“A sensible choice,” Shinigami says. “And since the gifts table was destroyed in the fight, how about our replacement gift is picking out a new one for you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that-”

“Hush,” Shinigami says, and slides into April’s personal space to clasp their hands together, her dress brushing against April’s. April can’t stop herself before she glances down, getting a good look at the slightly risqué black bodice Shinigami has. “You’re practically family at this point, it’s the least we can do. Especially since the boys would be just crushed if you died so soon after they got attached to you.”

“Uh, right,” April says, feeling a little hot in the face as she tries to keep her eyes off Shinigami’s ample chest and the blood that’s dried in little flecks there and everywhere else on her gown. She moves her eyes to Karai over Shinigami’s shoulder, which doesn’t help much, because Karai has undone her tie and left it hanging around her neck, jacket open and her shirt unbuttoned by three notches.

April thinks it’s highly unfair they can both look so good, with smudged makeup and rips in their party clothes.

Shinigami pats April’s cheek, an echo of their original meeting, and then steps away. She and Karai link arms, walking away from the steps and towards the car waiting for them, the chauffeur holding a door open for them. April keeps watching the sway of Shinigami’s dress and Karai’s hips until they’re both in the car, and then she sighs to herself and goes inside.

Donnie is leaning on the doorway as she does, and he has his very thick eyebrows raised at her.

“Please refrain from hitting on my sister or her wife,” he says flatly.

“Wasn’t hitting on them,” April says as she slips by him.

“Don’t check them out, either. They’re _married_ , April.”

“And how married are they to being married?”

_“April.”_

“I kid, I kid. I’m not gonna be a homewrecker-”

“Good.”

“-unless they want me to be.”

April dodges the swatting hand from her friend, grabbing her dress skirt and lifting it so she can run as he chases her, both of them laughing madly.

-/-

Borrowed clothes are still the comfiest thing April has ever worn. They’re… _warmer_ , somehow. She’s only ever worn clothes bought and made specifically for her and _only_ her. The novelty of stealing Leo’s hoodie, Mikey’s pajama pants, and a sleeveless undershirt from Donnie hasn’t worn off yet. Plus, snagging a pair of Raph’s big fuzzy hand knitted socks just puts the cherry on top of the experience.

This is, sincerely speaking, _so_ much nicer than getting all dressed up and smiling for people she doesn’t even like. Maybe Venus has a point. Maybe… April could stop preforming like that for people. She doesn’t like it, doesn’t enjoy it- and, hell, with how her social status has changed… maybe she can just get away with it now.

Her aunt isn’t coming back, and Primera was always the one who insisted on April having those lavish parties. April likes _this;_ the semi-darkness of a slightly cluttered living room, faded children scribbles along the walls, and the carpet beaten nearly flat. And the people. Her first real friends.

Leo was right about what he said, back in that hotel room. Venus really is a smart kid. And despite the tinge of anxiety that comes to her as she speaks-

“Can I just come here, next year?” April asks drowsily, only half awake, now. She’s got her head on a pillow, curled up on one end of the couch and legs propped up over Raph’s.

_“Sure.” “Why not?” “Cool by me.” “Yeah, we got room.”_

Those are the replies she gets all at once from the brothers, each of them nestled into a claimed space of the living room. April smiles, relieved and pleased, taking her tired eyes off the TV’s blurry movie to look at them all- their general locations, at least, since she can’t make out their faces without her glasses.

Leo has been sentenced to the recliner and hasn’t been allowed to move since he got there; by order of Donnie and every other sibling he has, because he will _not_ fuck up his shoulder any worse than he already has tonight. Mikey has the other side of the couch, knees folded up as his feet press against Raph’s thigh. Donnie is on a chaise, lounging there and seeming more than half-asleep. They’re all like that, actually, and April is tempted to follow her old bodyguard’s fate. Alopex was put into an actual bed a little while ago, her pain meds getting the better of her and falling asleep.

But, April kind of doesn’t want this moment to end just yet. This is, truly and honestly, the best birthday she’s had since before her parents died. She doesn’t need a big fancy party, she doesn’t need a hundred expensive gifts, and she doesn’t need couture dresses and suits or anything like them.

April feels genuinely content, just existing here in this space. Lent clothes keeping her warm, a softly worn pillow cradling her head, and good company surrounding her.

A part of her never wants to leave this house ever again, to stay wrapped up in these feelings for the rest of her life, but she knows… it’s not the location that’s making her feel this way. It’s the people.

April wipes her eyes in what she thinks is a subtle manner, but as Mikey reaches for something and hands it to Raph, she’s presented with a tissue box. She smiles, sniffling, and takes the offering.

None of them ask why she’s crying as she blows her nose, and she wonders if they might already know the answer anyway. It makes the happy, unfamiliar warmth in her chest increase in volume, pressing against her ribs and spreading through her whole body.

“Thanks,” April says quietly, and she doesn’t just mean for the tissues.

“No problem,” Mikey mumbles, poking her leg gently with his foot. Leo and Donnie vaguely mumble the same.

“We got ya,” Raph adds softly, putting a hand on her ankle and squeezing.

And April believes that.

They’ve got her.

-/-

“Where’d your lil sister go?” April wonders later, as they’re all shuffling upstairs to the bedrooms. “There’s no school tomorrow, an’ she seemed really into that last film…”

“She and pops have somethin’ to do tomorrow,” Raph replies cryptically, “so they both went to bed instead’a sticking around.”

“What’re they doing? If I can ask that.”

Mikey is the one who replies this time, giving a whispered cheer of, “It’s your birthday gift from us!”

“Oh- guys, no, you don’t have to do that,” April says quickly, sleepiness leaving her as she feels embarrassment creep in. “You’ve done more than enough, and it’s not like I really need much…” She winces, grimacing. “Sorry, that last bit sounded stuck up as fuck.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Leo says, leaning over the baluster from the next set of stairs. “You kinda don’t really need anything from anyone, since you could just get it yourself.”

“And that’s the question,” Donnie chimes in, shoulder to shoulder with his adopted twin. “What do you get for the woman who has everything?”

April shakes her head, sensing she won’t be able to deter their gift giving. “I don’t know, what?”

Donnie and Leo grin together.

“ _Something invisible, intangible, and irreversible,”_ they chorus.

April gives them a confused look, a little weirded out by the riddle like words. Mikey just quietly laughs and shoos them further up the stairs, and Raph refuses to clarify what the twins mean as they continue to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loose ends get wrapped up next chapter :3ccc
> 
> see yall at the finish line of this fic


	13. Encore Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma comes around, and things settle down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, holy fuck man........ i literally wrote a whole novel in just a few months. and it's one i'm fairly satisfied with?? this is the first piece of writing i'll ever show my family, and i might finally be confident enough to do so.
> 
> also BIG DAMN SHOUT OUT to my fantastic and patient and all around great beta/editor lulusoblue on tumblr. bruh you put up with so many pages from me, i'm stunned we're still friends. i never could've gotten this done on time if it weren't for you pre-preemptively catching my mistakes. to yall readers, a good chunk of this fic's quality is owed to her. praise lu's name.
> 
> hope everyone has a happy holidays, whatever you celebrate, and enjoy this final chapter.

Primera refuses to duck her head in shame as she’s led out of the courthouse- ironically her trial having been done in the same one she’d been arrested in.

The bloodlust of the reporters waiting is evident in their yelled questions, demands for her to answer, to give a statement about the murder of her sister and her sister’s husband, about attempting to kill their only child for _years-_

Primera doesn’t even spare them a glance. She’s above them, no matter the prison jumpsuit she’s dressed in or the chains around her wrists and ankles- though she’s further hindered by the cast of one hand. The rabble is maggots under her heel, writhing and mindless. If not for her niece and her _treachery,_ Primera would set her private security force on the crowds and have every officer escorting her to supermax prison fired.

But Primera can wait. She’ll bide her time, build up power again from inside the prison system- her name still carries plenty of weight and worth with the right people. April might have survived her cheeky little birthday celebration, despite the multiple killers Primera and the rest of their family had hired to kill the bitch, but Primera _would_ get her, someday. Her luck couldn’t last, she’s just one stupid girl, just one damnable child wearing her sister’s face and _mocking her_ while she tore Primera’s life apart _-_

Something shines the late morning sun into her eye, and Primera’s thoughts are derailed as she squints in its brightness. She doesn’t understand where the light is coming from, glaring at it as she looks upwards at the skyscrapers surrounding the courthouse.

Her eyes then go wide as she puts together the pieces too late.

 _“There’s-”_ she starts to cry, but that’s all she gets out as the sniper aiming for her pulls the trigger.

Primera’s world ends within seconds after, briefly feeling herself fall backwards as agony explodes from her forehead. The flash of cameras, the yelling of police, the raging crowd of screaming reporters-

She dies without fully comprehending what’s happened, splayed on the white steps of the courthouse, blood seeping onto them from the hole through her skull.

-/-

Yoshi inhales, letting oxygen return to his lungs and coming back from the stillness of sniping. The hollow ring of the bullet casing has only just faded from the air, and it’s a familiar sound for him to hear. Below, the chaos of Primera Kraang’s death has become full-fledged, and he knows they should make themselves scarce before anyone with half a brain finds their position.

“Augh, I am too old for this,” he grumbles, back protesting as he gets up from lying on the roof. A gloved hand is offered to him, and he takes it. “Thank you.”

“No probles,” Venus says, hauling him up. Her full-face mask smiles serenely at him with blank, dark eyes; its white surface painted with bold cyan and black markings. Her tactical gear is a downsized version of her older brothers’- lightweight armor and durable fabrics, hidden under a long coat that has a hood.

Yoshi’s is somewhat more old-school than his children’s. He still prefers just a good pair of pants and a smart jacket, loose enough on his body to hide a number of surprises underneath. Plus, a hat pushed low on his head, and black paint smudged across the upper half of his face, all to obscure his identity to any witnesses. In his day, assassinations were simpler, and that’s all he needed to get away with them. Technology has changed the face of hired killing, upping the challenge of it and increasing the amount of skills required to pull off a hit. His sons have managed well enough in that respect, adaptive and semi-intelligent boys they are.

And Venus, at her age, has more talent than all four of them when they were that young, and should she choose to follow the same path… Yoshi can see his youngest child becoming a well-respected hitman someday.

It’s part of why he brought her with him, letting her witness her first real assassination. A good way for her to gauge if her self-defence training should continue its steady increase of difficulty. However, that isn’t the only reason he’s brought her along.

They pack up quickly, collapsing the sniper rifle and storing it within the false child’s backpack again. Venus lifts its weight easily, sliding it onto her back and following Yoshi as they retreat back down the stairs of the building.

His daughter, with her light steps and quick pace, manages to get ahead of him by almost five steps. Yoshi watches the backpack bounce as she jumps the last two, hood falling back and revealing the tight bun she’s put her braid into. Her gait is confident and she hadn’t flinched at all when he shot Primera.

Venus is very different from the little girl she was, when he first adopted her.

“A moment,” Yoshi says, stopping halfway down the flight. Venus stops, too, turning and listening expectantly. He gazes at the blank eyes of her mask, recalling that she really did once have those eyes. Numbly furious, looking up at him like she’d died inside. She’d seemed nearly empty of life.

But, Venus’s eyes took on a light, slowly but steadily, under the unconditional affection of her new family. She hasn’t forgotten her first family, but nonetheless has settled into her second.

Now, Yoshi has two questions to ask of her.

“Do you regret not being able to kill her yourself?” he questions calmly. “Primera Kraang ordered your parents’ deaths, after all. If we had waited a few more years, you could have been the one to pull the trigger.”

His first question is if his daughter will resent April for this, for the woman’s revenge overshadowing Venus’s. Yoshi would like to know now rather than later if bad blood will fester between them, in hopes of averting future conflict.

Venus tilts her head, considering the question for a moment. Then, she replies, “I don’t regret it. I used to wanna kill her myself, but… turns out if it’s you doing it, that’s good, too. I think I’d’ve been okay with it if my brothers or sister did it, too.”

Yoshi nods, accepting the reply. He walks down the steps to be closer, and stops in front of Venus. “That is good to hear,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “I have one other question before we go.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Will you become Mei Pieh Chi again, now that the one would hunt her is dead?”

His daughter goes quiet, chin tilting down a little. Slowly, Yoshi reaches out to her, asking silently as he starts to lift the mask off her face if it’s okay. His daughter doesn’t try to stop him, so he takes the mask away to meet her eyes.

The gaze that meets his seems too old for a nine year old to have. Grown up too fast to survive in a cruel world. All of his children have those eyes at times- even April, though he has only known her a short while. To get to where they are today, all of them have had to age prematurely.

His youngest and April wear similar expressions, both of them having lost their families to the same woman, both of them orphans at a young age. Perhaps they’ll find solace together in that.

“I… I don’t think so,” his daughter admits softly. “I know I could, but… I don’t want to? I. I like who I am, the way I am- and I love all of you, too. I don’t wanna give that up.”

“You would not be giving us up, child,” Yoshi comforts. “You can be whoever you want to be, and you will still be a part of our family.”

“…Thanks. I’m… I’m still not gonna, though.” Her expression becomes wry, an undertone of sadness to her smile. “I think Mei Pieh Chi died when mom and dad did. I’m just Venus, now.”

Yoshi accepts this answer, too. Venus in return accepts the brief hug he offers.

However often his children drive him to insanity, Yoshi can’t fully tamp down the affection he’s come to have for each and every one of them.

“Then let us go home, Venus.”

-/-

They take a winding route of alleys, flipping his and Venus’s reversible jackets, wiping off his paint and storing her mask in the backpack. They step out onto the busy streets looking like normal citizens, and catch a cab from there.

“I was technically kinda already Venus, you know?”

Yoshi hums vaguely, prompting his daughter to continue. The taxi driver is keeping his eyes forwards, comm implants behind his ears faintly glowing as he likely listens to music. Whatever they talk about in the backseat, their diver certainly won’t hear. He’s remarkably unobservant, too, not noticing the armor under Venus’s buttoned coat or the traces of black paint likely on Yoshi’s face. That, or he has the sense to just take the large tip and keep his mouth shut.

Venus traces a circle on the window, around a smudge on the glass. “My dad once said they would’ve named me Venus, if my grandmother on my mom’s side hadn’t died a few weeks before I was born. They named me after her instead.”

“Quite the switch,” Yoshi comments.

“Yeah. All their other name ideas were planets and stars. My… my parents really loved space. I sort of remember that they took me to the science center a lot, and maybe a planetarium once. I think dad or mom wanted to be an astronaut, or… maybe they just wanted to visit the mars colony…?” Venus sighs. “I don’t really remember anymore. Wish I did.”

Yoshi mulls over those things silently, letting his daughter have a moment to grieve. Venus and April will both need time to grieve, in all likelihood. The death of the person responsible for their parents’ murders will dredge up everything attached to those memories, forcing them to relive the painful experiences as they accept those deaths a second time.

But, perhaps he can lighten that burden at least a little.

“I have never been to a planetarium,” Yoshi says casually, stroking his beard. “Would you take me to one next weekend?”

Venus stares at him for a second, and then smiles.

“Oh, god, dad- I’d love to. Can we bring everyone else?”

Yoshi sighs. “If we must.” He then grunts as his youngest daughter abruptly leans across the space between them, straining against her seatbelt to hug him.

“Thank you,” Venus whispers, a slight hitch in her voice. “For- for everything.”

Yoshi really is getting old, the way her tone gets to him. He returns the awkward hug, holding his child and bowing his head over her.

“You are most welcome,” he says gently, petting Venus’s back.

Their cab driver still says nothing of what’s gone on in the backseat of his vehicle, even as they pull up to their destination. He takes his payment and second tip, and doesn’t give more than a glance as he drives away.

Venus is already up to the door by the time Yoshi turns to follow, and she bursts inside with a loud holler as a greeting. Similarly hollered voices return the greeting, including a voice that’s still the newest addition to their little clan.

As Yoshi approaches the open door, he hears that new voice exclaiming, “ _Did you- oh my god. Oh my god no way, how-_ why- _I, I don’t-_ ” which means April has undoubtedly heard the news, and has just put together what her final birthday gift is.

She sounds shocked, disbelieving- but the affirmation from Venus is replied to with a sound that’s pure, visceral relief.

Yoshi shakes his head, grasping the doorknob as he steps inside and pushing it shut. The fuss in the other room about Primera’s death- Venus’s revenge for her family, April’s freedom from her abuser- it’ll go on all day, he can already tell. It’s all very understandable, but Yoshi has a headache from the drama already.

Still, as he enters the kitchen, where everyone had been gathered for whatever reason, Yoshi meets the watery eyes of his most recently adopted charge, and simply says-

“I will put on some tea. Sit, April. We will have plenty of time to talk.”

She stares a few seconds, and then nods faintly. Yoshi’s four sons gently escort her out of the room, reassurances and comforts coming from all of them at once. Venus trails them, subdued from her earlier energy. Alopex, April’s constant shadow, lingers.

They hold each other’s gazes for a few seconds, and then the woman nods at him. Yoshi returns the respectful nod, accepting the bodyguard’s unspoken gratitude.

Alopex leaves, crutches thudding quietly on the floor, and Yoshi goes to put the kettle on.

When he comes out with cups of tea, he finds his family sat around the dining table, talking in low voices. Venus and April have pushed their chairs together, pressed against each other’s side. Someone has put a blanket Raphael knitted one Christmas around their shoulders. On opposite sides of them, Michelangelo is holding Venus’s hand, and Alopex is squeezing April’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, now,” Michelangelo is saying to both of them. “She’s gone. It’s over.”

“My other relatives-” April tries to start.

“Will be dealt with, too,” Raphael interrupts, tone kind. His scarred lips form a smile. “I told you last night, we’ve got you.”

“My son is correct, April,” Yoshi says, coming around to her side of the table, offering the first cups of tea to his daughter and their friend. “We have indeed ‘got you’.”

The young woman takes the cup, a tentative smile on her face. Venus takes hers as well, mumbling a thank you before drinking it.

The conversations following are aimless and wandering, April’s attempts to give compensation for her gift repeatedly refused, only allowing her to thank them. Her claims that she won’t ever be able to repay them are also politely waved away, as she’s done plenty already, and this freedom from her aunt is simply something she deserves.

April and Venus both deserve that freedom, and Yoshi is happy to have given it to both of them.

Tears happen more than once. A tissue box is emptied and old stories are shared. Yoshi receives help from Raphael in replenishing their tea. And then help from Michelangelo in making a small snack. They spend midday and early afternoon at the table, just talking.

It’s a needed flushing of old wounds, for both April and Venus. It’s not all grief tainted memories, however, as the four brothers attempt to draw out smiles and giggles from both of them with increasing success. Even Alopex, who has not smiled for even a moment in public view, seems softer around the edges as April takes her turn to talk about her family.

To any stranger who might walk into the room in this moment, seeing Venus and April still clustered together and the brothers and Alopex inevitably drawn their direction, too- they likely wouldn’t be able to distinguish the divisions of family ties.

Yoshi supposes there may not be divisions at all anymore. A series of chances and coincidences have led them all here, and the concept of separating would be firmly rejected.

Well. It’s not like his home doesn’t have plenty of rooms to spare in it, and Yoshi always did find himself becoming unwillingly attached to trouble cases.

As the young men and women in the room get louder, laughing about something Yoshi has tuned out, he trades a wry look with Alopex. The woman rolls her eyes and lifts her tea in a toast, no doubt following the same train of thought Yoshi has been.

Yoshi raises his cup to hers, chuckling to himself. He can tell she knows as well as he does that this will be their lives from here on out.

He can’t say he’s all that annoyed by this fact, though Yoshi will never admit it aloud to any of the kids. Instead, he gets up to retrieve a deck of cards, and starts a game with Alopex to pass the time. Yoshi wins three and Alopex wins four, and he’s in the middle of trying to even the score when his eldest daughter and her wife come into the house.

From then on, it’s a process of preparing a dinner plan made up of comfort foods favored by April and Venus. The house is filled with noise and talking, conversations spoken over other conversations as everyone weaves around each other, minding cooking food and trying not to step on anyone’s toes.

Yoshi and Venus engage in their traditional game of snitching from Michelangelo’s stir-fry, avoiding his scolding chopsticks as they do. Leonardo gets a dry critique from Donatello about the fact that he was supposed to _chop_ the vegetables, not _mince_ them _._ Raphael, Shinigami, and April chatter happily in the dining room, two of them folding dough into dumplings with expert skill, and the other giving it her all regardless of her inexperience. Karai splits her attention between the two types of salad they’re having, the biscuits baking in the oven, and corralling Yoshi and Venus into helping her find out where the rice cooker has disappeared to. In all that, Alopex peels whatever vegetable is put on her cutting board, and only snaps a little whenever someone bumps her bad leg.

The whole thing is a messy, semi-disastrous endeavour, and Yoshi finds himself content with the new life that’s filled his home and all their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!!! at least for the main story. i've been asked if i'll do sequel-prequels, and tbh i'm excited to do so! i just won't for a little while, since to write this fic i neglected _so many others_. i'm gonna be swamped by updating a whole lotta shit for the next few weeks, oh boy....
> 
> thanks everyone for coming to read! i really appreciated the compliments and encouragements you guys gave me, since i started off thinking just me and some friends would like this au. color me totes surprised at the warm welcome it's received. subscribe to my profile to keep an eye out for continuations with this au's story line, [come join my discord server](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fdiscord.gg%2FPBqStWv&t=MzkxZDhlYTE4MzIwMjg2MjRkODQxZDEzMmI0NzZmMWE0ZmI2YjJlNCxaaTNMZXNvZw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-wa90Tij4jaMp7hiAUjeg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fonthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F180852645418%2Fspectrum-discord&m=1) if you haven't yet! we talk about this au's contents, plus some of my other fics, and just turtle nonsense (+other nonsense) in general. 
> 
> thanks again for reading, ciao for now <3


	14. Bonus chapter: a book cover for the fic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's!! A book cover!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm planning on printing a handful of physical copies of this fanfic, and naturally speaking this means i needed a cover for it. thank you so so so SO much to [Milk over on tumblr](http://miikpal.tumblr.com/), who took this commission and produced something beyond my wildest expectations. to everyone who's read this fic, go give [their posting of this commission a reblog](http://miikpal.tumblr.com/post/182229423858/a-commission-for-onthespectrumwriting-i-had), and maybe even consider hitting them up for your own commissions in the future!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't wait to have this baby in my own two hands :'D

**Author's Note:**

> [i'm spectrum here on tumblr](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/), this is the posting of [moodoodles's artwork](https://moodoodles.tumblr.com/post/180671183115/my-contribution-to-tmnt-big-bang-and-their), and this is [info's tumblr.](http://infographicphenomenon.tumblr.com/)


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